


Mercenaries & Missionaries

by SpellCleaver



Series: Star Wars/Grishaverse AU [2]
Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Everything in Star Wars Retelling technically, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, I promise, Jedi!Kuwei, Jedi!Nina, M/M, Mandalorian!Matthias, No Ewoks, Pekka the Hutt, Rebel!Inej, Rebel!Wylan, Rebellion, Rogue One Retelling, Smuggler!Kaz, Some Swearing, maybe Jedi!Jesper, who knows - Freeform, yes I did steal a few thousand quotes/scenes/plot points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 120,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver
Summary: Inej is a spy for the cause she believes in, Kaz is the smuggler she has bad blood with, Wylan and Matthias just defected, Nina's the last survivor of her order, and Jesper doesn't know what he's doing. When they team up against the Empire, things go as well as can be expected.The characters from the Grishaverse put into a Galaxy Far Far Away. No need to have seen Star Wars to read or understand this fic.





	1. Episode I

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I can tell, you do not need to have seen the Star Wars films to understand this fic. I am trying to write it that way, at least - I don't know how successful I'm being. But there are zero plot points that you would need to have seen SW to understand, nor are there any actual SW characters appearing in this fic - it's literally just the Grishaverse characters transplanted into a Galaxy Far Far Away. That's why I didn't class it as a crossover. If you do decide to read it and there's something you don't know or I haven't explained properly, just mention it in the reviews and I'll get back to you on that.
> 
> For the people who have seen the SW films, there will be a lot of references/blatantly plagiarised quotes/scenes. This began as a sort of rewritten Rogue One scenario, what with them trying to get the plans to destroy the Death Star, but it expanded into much more than that so. . . it'll certainly be an interesting ride.
> 
> Finally, I'm trying a new method for this fic where I type up chapters in advance without deciding on the divisions between the chapters until it's time to post them, so I honestly don't know how regular my updates will be. I'm going to try for once or twice a week, and I already have 20,000 words typed up for this, but how regular it will be after that depends on whether or not this new method or mine is a complete flop.
> 
> LATER NOTE: I'm trying to go through and draw some art for this fic, which I will post on tumblr and link to in the chapter notes. I'm still getting used to digital art, so my drawing style will be wildly inconsistent, but I hope you like it anyway :)

**Part I: Planet-Killer**

Inej gritted her teeth as the sounds of blasterfire battered the back of the ship. She gripped the controls of the _lambda_ shuttle and took in deep, steady breaths as she veered sharply to the left to avoid more fire.

These things were _not_ built for manoeuvrability. Although she supposed that if the shuttle was still in Imperial hands - if she hadn't _stolen it_ \- it wouldn't have _needed_ to be manoeuvrable, or fast-

It didn't matter. It didn't matter because Inej was in the pilot's seat now, and there was a datachip in her bag containing vital information, and she was the _Wraith_ for Saints' sake; the best spy in the Rebel Alliance was _not_ about to let herself be blown to ashes and stardust simply because the Imperials didn't build heavy-duty cargo ships with Rebels making speedy escapes in mind.

The comlink at her ear crackled with static for a moment before it resolved itself into Nina's voice. _". . .incoming TIEs, my right, your left."_

"Aren't you _shooting back_?" Inej cried out in panic, head swivelling round to glance at one of the fighters out of the left viewport. She'd always thought they looked like eyes, TIE fighters - eyes, or swarming insects, delicate death-traps individually, but in hordes. . .

In hordes. . .

"How many?"

 _"A dozen, by my count. Two down."_ There was the rattle of blasterfire again, then Nina's smug voice. _"Make that three. Have you put the shield up, yet? Plotted the hyperspace coordinates?"_

"These things are much easier to fly when you have a co-pilot, you know," Inej muttered, half to herself. Nina's snort was only slightly louder than the static as Inej stretched for the switch, at the same time keeping an eye on all the whirring dials-

Another blast rocked the entire shuttle, and another TIE exploded just outside the viewport, its fiery remains streaked directly in front of them, so close they nearly seared a hole in the transparisteel. Inej was thrown forwards, the crash webbing temporarily cutting off her circulation as she scanned the controls-

"We've lost one of our engines, blast it, blast it, _blast it_ -"

 _"Shield would be useful right about now!"_ Nina barked. There was a screeching from her end of the comlink and Inej pressed her lips together, firmly stomping down concern for what _that_ was in order to focus on the here and now.

She lunged for the switch and slapped with all her might. "Done," she grunted, allowing herself a moment of relief as the whirring sound of the shield generator started up and the violent rocking receded slightly.

Ignoring the sudden influx of bright explosions in her peripheral vision - Nina must be really letting loose - Inej jabbed the navicomputer, heart beating in her throat like a starbird's wings, and couldn't contain her whoop when it completed its calculations.

It was _not_ on her agenda to jump to lightspeed to get away from this mess only for them to get vaporised because they flew through a star.

"Stand by for hyperspace," she voiced aloud, not really paying attention to Nina's affirmative as she reached up to yank the lever down, and watched the stars dissolve into blue streaks around her.

* * *

"You did well, Captain," Galactic Senator Nikolai Lantsov assured Inej when he called her in later for her debriefing. "Retrieving the information we sent you in for _and_ rescuing Lieutenant Zenik whilst you were at it? Impressive."

Inej stood to attention, upright and rigid. "Nina's my friend," she said stiffly. "She happened to be held in the same building I was infiltrating, and they were about to start interrogating her. The morale of the Rebellion would have suffered if our only Jedi were to be lost."

Lantsov nodded. "You did what was right, of course, even if you _did_ potentially risk the data we sent you to collect. But I have no doubt your task was your highest priority, and that you wouldn't have attempted to rescue Zenik without reasonable confidence that you would succeed. I commend you for doing both."

Inej said nothing. Lantsov didn't seem to notice.

"The Wraith has struck again," he mused, more to himself than to Inej. She remained silent. She'd never particularly liked that she'd become a successful enough spy that her nickname was now widely used in propaganda - on both sides of the war - and she didn't like that her kills were broadcast as heroic deeds by the Alliance. She did enough penance for them as it was.

Senator Lantsov came back to his thoughts then, and moved towards the nearest computer in the debriefing room. He plugged the datachip she'd handed him into the terminal and sifted through the files that came up until he had a specific folder showing on the screen. "Have you had a good look at this information, Captain?"

Inej shook her head. "No, sir."

He drew up another page, this time filled from top to bottom with text in a language - or code - Inej didn't recognise. "Because here is your next assignment."

There was a moment of silence. Inej hesitated before querying, "Sir?"

Lantsov pointed his finger at the screen. A few words of grey text turned red, standing out stark against the dark background. "The slicers got into this shortly after you handed the information in two days ago. We have the general gist of the report - information on Imperial weaponry, troops, etcetera - but this is the part that's truly alarming."

There was a heavy sense of foreboding building in Inej's chest. Nina would probably call it the Force, but Inej just called it intuition.

"It says that there's a gaping hole in the Empire's economy and funding. It's all being sucked into a single project."

Inej, curiosity aroused despite herself, walked closer to the computer. "Does it say what the project is, sir?"

Lantsov shook his head. "No. Just that it's a 'planet-killer'." The bottom dropped out of Inej's stomach. A _planet-killer_? "And I'm sure you understand why that's concerning in and of itself. But the information here also leads us to believe that the scientist behind it is none other than Bo Yul-Bayur."

Inej furrowed her brow. "Should I have heard of him, sir?"

Lantsov glanced at her. "I suppose not. He was a well-known scientist on Coruscant and other major planets shortly before the rise of the Empire. You'd probably have been too young to have much of a vested interest in science around that time."

Remembering her two-year-old self to have had a fascination with sucking her toes, climbing on furniture and staring out of ship viewports, Inej was inclined to agree. "So why has Yul-Bayur been so under-the-radar for the last eighteen years, then?"

"He's been working on this secret project, I presume." Lantsov sighed, and passed a hand over his hand. "Captain, we know little to nothing about this 'planet-killer' despite the wealth of information you've brought us, and it's something we desperately need to know more about. And you're the best spy we have."

She didn't say anything - just waited for him to finish.

"I'm authorising you to gather a team and find out more about this project. We need to know _everything_ \- what it's called, what it does, how it does it, what weaknesses we can exploit. Put together a team of anyone you think will be able to help - I trust your judgement - and _find these answers_. We need them now more than ever. Is that clear, Captain?"

"Affirmative, Senator."

"Good. Whom do you have in mind?"

Inej considered it for a moment. "Lieutenant Zenik, sir, for sure; we work well in a team and I can attest to her composure in the field."

Lantsov nodded, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, you should take Van Eck as well." At her blank look, he elaborated, "A recent Imperial defector of ours. As I understand it, his father is an arms dealer and weapons specialist who got rich off the Clone Wars, before the fall of the Republic, and has been in the pay of the Empire since. He and his bodyguard may be able to provide some useful information."

"Yes, sir."

"Anyone else in mind?"

Inej paused. They would need to get past Imperial cordons, blockades - not that she didn't do that regularly, but she wasn't willing to jeopardise the secrecy of the mission by relying on her own amateur cloaking abilities.

"Yes, Senator. A smuggler." Lantsov raised an eyebrow. "I guess you could call him an old friend."

* * *

Van Eck proved to be even younger than Inej, and that, Nina thought, was saying something. Inej was one of the youngest members in the Rebellion - not that Nina was much older.

It was truly awful that the Empire had shoved all responsibility of _peace_ and _justice_ onto the shoulders of children.

Honestly, though. Was Van Eck even of _age_?

"I'm eighteen," he said defensively, almost the moment Nina stepped into his quarters. The door had been opened by a human male a little closer to Nina's age - about twenty five standard years, if not older. Blond-haired, blue-eyed and stocky, the man had scowled at her then and he scowled at her now, walking over to Van Eck's side and positioning himself half between the two of them. "I just look younger, that's all."

Nina shrugged. "My best friend's one of the youngest human women in the Rebellion. Age is irrelevant when compared to morals."

Van Eck swallowed at that for some reason, shifting uncomfortably. He made a valiant attempt at changing the subject. "My name is Wylan Van Eck, and this is my bodyguard, Matthias Helvar. It's nice you meet you." He held out his hand. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Nina took his hand cautiously, shook it, and quickly let go. She wasn't used to someone with such impeccable manners and Van Eck didn't seem accustomed to showing them; his speech was slow, stilted, like he was reading from a script. "Lieutenant Nina Zenik. And I was sent by Captain Ghafa to inform you that you'll be participating in the next mission she and I embark on - we'll need you for it."

Van Eck's bodyguard - Helvar - looked suspicious. "Captain Ghafa? We haven't heard of her."

"Oh no, you almost certainly have," Nina replied pleasantly, "though I suppose Imperials would know her as the Wraith."

Van Eck's face drained of colour. "The _Wraith_?"

Nina nodded, still with a mockingly serene smile on her lips. Very pointedly, she shifted positions so her jacket hem rode up her side, revealing the lightsaber clipped there. "We're a team."

Van Eck stared at the lightsaber for a moment before his face paled even more, until it was whiter than a blank sheet of flimsi. "You're the Jedi."

 _The_ Jedi, Nina catalogued bitterly. Not _a_ Jedi. One of the only ones left, after the Purge - and certainly the only one who would openly ally with the Alliance to Restore the Republic.

Helvar's face now tightened into suspicion and what looked eerily like hatred as he pointedly stepped between his employer and her. "My lord is _not_ going on a mission with the Wraith and the Jedi."

"These are orders from Senator Lantsov himself, and the rest of High Command," Nina replied curtly. "Young Van Eck here should consider it his privilege to be able to help stop the Empire he was a part of for so long from destroying all hope for a new Republic to rise." Helvar stiffened at her tone and opened his mouth, ready to jump to defend his lord's honour, before Nina finished, looking directly at Van Eck, "And if you don't, then the consequences we're talking about aren't just the death of the Alliance. We're talking about the deaths of entire _planets_."

Helvar shut his mouth at that. And Van Eck, pale, glassy-eyed, shaky, ignoring the look his bodyguard sent him, rasped in a hoarse voice, "I'll do it."

Nina inclined her head towards the sleeping quarters of the young lord's living area. "Then I suggest you pack, lordling. We're leaving tomorrow evening."

* * *

It was the beginning of the next night cycle when Inej began running the pre-flight checks to prepare for their departure. She'd just confirmed everything was good to go when Nina finally deigned to climb the boarding ramp, dragging with her a teenager of minimal stature alongside a man with broad shoulders and the muscles to match. Watching them was odd; they were like two blond, mismatching bookends.

"Dump your stuff in the back and strap yourself in, we're scheduled to set off in a few minutes," she called back, flicking the switches to begin the start up sequence. The crimson light of Dantooine's setting sun bathed the hangar entrance as she lifted off and flew out into the atmosphere, exchanging a few words with the Rebels on lookout duty before she engaged the repulsors, hard, and they shot up into space.

Inej may have taken a certain satisfaction in the dim groan that emanated from the living area behind her, and a deep male voice saying, "I really hate flying."

After that, though, she tried to fly somewhat gently until she punched in the hyperspace coordinates and the stars turned to streaks around them. Only then did she stand up from the pilot's chair and go back to meet Van Eck and his bodyguard.

"What? Don't you like being on ships, Helvar?" she heard Nina ask mockingly. The larger man shook his head just as Inej stepped in and glowered at her friend.

"Be nice, Nina, they're our allies," she chided, though she sidled into the room somewhat hesitantly. Both men jumped when they heard her and turned to stare; the smaller one's eyes were wide, the larger one's narrowed. After a moment's indecision, she smiled at both and held out her hand; Nina had said that was the method of greeting that Van Eck had used, and Inej figured it would be best to make a good impression on the people they'd likely be spending the next few days - if not weeks - in the company of. "I'm Captain Inej Ghafa, but please, call me Inej." A little familiarity couldn't hurt, could it?

The smaller one's eyes began to resemble their normal size again; his shoulders visibly relaxed as he took her hand. "Wylan Van Eck, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and please: call me Wylan as well." As Nina had described, his tone was stiff and formal, like he was reciting lines for a play he had no interest in, but being in familiar territory seemed to soothe him marginally. "This is my bodyguard, Matthias Helvar."

Inej turned her best attempt at a disarming smile on the larger man, and though his eyes remained narrowed in suspicion, there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth that suggested an urge to smile back. "Nice to meet you."

She held out her hand and, after a moment's hesitation, he took it, squeezing firmly as they shook, and then let go.

"My apologies about the bumpy start," she added, directing it at both Wylan and Matthias, though she was fairly sure it had been Matthias grumbling. "I forget sometimes that not everyone likes going through turbulence as much as I do."

Matthias gave a gruff, "It's alright."

Nina shot Inej a smile, even as Wylan said, with curiosity in his eyes replacing the fear, "So _you're_ the Wraith?"

Inej tensed up. She closed her eyes for an instant, smoothed out her features, and took a deep breath. She answered only when she opened them. "Yes. Yes I am."

She prepared herself for the barrage of questions - or maybe even a barrage of hate; for an Imperial defector, Matthias seemed pretty. . . hostile. . . towards Rebels - but all Wylan said was, "I figured you'd be taller. You're even shorter than me."

Inej huffed a laugh - half in relief, half in amusement. "Well, being small helps me get out of tight corners."

"Let's just hope we can get out of this one, then," Nina chimed in, bringing the fluffy pleasantries back down to earth with a bump. "Where are we headed again? And what are we gonna do there?"

Inej had to stand and lean against a wall for a brief moment before she answered, distractedly peering out through the open door to the cockpit, where she could just see the whirling tunnel of hyperspace beyond the viewports.

"We're headed to Mos Eisley, Tatooine," she said with a heavy sigh. She wasn't exactly looking forward to this. "We're gonna pick up the last member of this motley crew there." At Matthias's sharp - and slightly angry - intake of breath, she glanced over at him. "Don't worry, you, Wylan and Nina will need to stay on the ship; you won't be going outside. I'm gonna meet him there myself. I've already established where he'll be."

"You're going out into a cesspit like Mos Eisley _on your own_?" Nina asked incredulously. "Inej, you're a twenty-year-old, pretty human female, and Tatooine is a planet under the dominion of the _Hutts_ \- the biggest cause of slavery in the Outer Rim. Is that really such a good idea?"

Inej clenched her fists. "I know the risks. Firsthand."

She'd never told Nina about the "firsthand" part, but there must have been something in her voice to make her back off, because her friend didn't push that line of enquiry any further.

Instead, Nina said, "My master used to call Mos Eisley a 'wretched hive of scum and villainy'." Inej closed her eyes at the mention of Nina's late Jedi Master; she knew she didn't talk about her very often. "Who is your contact? Why are you meeting them _there_?"

Inej just looked at Nina, eyebrow raised.

Nina's incredulous expression faltered slightly.

" _Him?_ "

"Him."

"But - _why_? Surely you're a good enough pilot and slicer-"

Inej shrugged. "He's the best chance we've got. I wouldn't trust anyone else to get us past those blockades effectively - and I'm only a passable slicer. If we don't want there to be the _slightest_ chance that the Imperials will detect us on their scopes, we'll need him."

"I'm sorry," Wylan cut in then. Funny thing was, he _did_ seem genuinely sorry - his cheeks flamed red when the women turned their gazes on him. "But who are you talking about?"

"Kaz Brekker," Inej replied promptly. "He was a. . . _partner_. . . of mine, back when I first found myself without a home or parents to turn to. He taught me how to slice, spy, etcetera, and in return I taught him how to fly. We're old acquaintances."

Nina cut in then. "He doesn't need to get involved."

Wylan looked between them in mounting confusion. Matthias was no doubt equally as confused, but he kept his face stoic - expressionless. "Why not?"

Inej barked a laugh that she supposed could be categorised as bitter. "Because the last time I saw him, Kaz called me a suicidal fool for joining up with the Rebellion. And now. . . He's the most infamous smuggler in the Outer Rim."


	2. Episode II

Mos Eisley was exactly as Inej remembered it: hot, sandy, and full of a miscellaneous mix of monsters and men.

She bought a headscarf at one of the stalls and wasted no time in winding it round her head and neck - partly to keep the intense light of Tatooine's twin suns off of her, but mainly to cover her face. She didn't want any money-grabbing snitches who might recognise her reporting that the Wraith was in Mos Eisley hiring Kaz Brekker.

Nor did she want to run into anyone who remembered her from the _last_ time she was on this cesspit of a desert planet.

She spotted the city's main cantina up ahead - where all the main smugglers in the city would converge to find work. If Kaz was anywhere, he'd be there.

She slid inside mainly unnoticed, ordered a drink from the bar, and settled herself into a booth with a clear view of the door. She'd already done a preliminary sweep of the bar: he wasn't here yet. She would have to wait.

No matter; she'd told the three back at the ship that she would be a while, anyway.

She sat there for maybe an hour, taking periodic sips of her drink to prevent from being thrown out, glancing around every once in a while to ensure that the patrons knew she was waiting for someone and not there for. . . other purposes.

Finally, she recognised the limping gait of the man who staggered in the door, leaning heavily on his cane. Even from a distance, Inej could tell he was grumpy, irritated; she sighed. This would be a joy.

He walked forwards for maybe another two steps before he stiffened, and began to scan the booths intently. Inej stifled a smile. No matter how good she became at hiding or spying, Kaz could always tell when she was near. It would've creepy if it wasn't so useful on occasions like this.

When his gaze finally landed on her, he stiffened further. She raised an eyebrow as she stopped stifling her smile and inclined her head towards the bench opposite her.

He scowled at the invitation, but hobbled over.

"What do you want, Inej?" he asked almost before he'd sat down, giving her his most terrifying glower.

She raised her eyebrows further. "Nice to see you too, Kaz."

"You haven't been to visit in the last two years. Not since you signed up to your _Rebellion_." There was a sneer in his voice when he said the last word. "I highly doubt you've come for a social call now."

Something in his voice made her back tense up in exactly the same way it used to make her cower. Scorn - she'd hated how scornful he was, sometimes.

"I know," she said coldly, "how _dare_ I not bother to keep in touch after the _charming_ words you spat at me when I left?"

The sneer fell from his face at that and he fidgeted in his seat. He looked almost uncomfortable.

She nodded at the ground. "What happened to your leg?"

"Firefight. Local gang, I think. Got distracted."

"You never get distracted."

A peculiar thing happened, then: Kaz Brekker's face went red. He was _blushing_.

But, being Kaz Brekker, he tried to save face by changing the subject. "So what is it that you want?"

Inej sat forward, her elbows on the table, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "We need you for a mission with the Rebellion."

Kaz's sneer returned. " _We_? Who's _we_?"

" _I_ need you for a mission with the Rebellion, then," she corrected, her irritation evident in her voice. Usually she was more amiable than this, more patient - but usually she wasn't dealing with Kaz Brekker.

Kaz raised his eyebrows himself, then, and sat back. She'd seen him adopt the position often, when he wanted to grope for his blaster and get it into a position to shoot whoever he was dealing with before they saw it coming. But Kaz wasn't going to shoot her.

She hoped.

"And why would I agree to that, darling Inej?" The mocking term of endearment put her on edge almost as much as his heartlessness did. Kaz used to use it all the time, purely because it had riled her up. It still did.

She placed her palms flat on the table and looked him in the eye. "One, because you still owe me a few thousand favours from all the times I saved your sorry behind." He cocked his head, unimpressed. She barrelled on. "Two, because we're willing to pay."

"How much?"

"How much do you want?"

He narrowed his eyes, considering. He was enjoying this, Inej realised. _Filthy son of a-_

"Ten thousand credits, all in advance, would be my usual fee," he said, clearly _also_ enjoying the look of abject shock on her face. "But because it's you, darling Inej, I'll settle for eight thousand."

Inej clenched both her hands on top of the table, not caring that Kaz could see - or that this was amusing him even more. It was within the budget Senator Lantsov had given her for this mission, but it would clear them out, almost completely.

She could haggle, she supposed, but Kaz was as stubborn as they came once he had his mind on something. It was eight thousand, and that was that.

"Deal." The word was hard, flinty - but the bad taste it left in her mouth almost abated when she saw Kaz's momentary shock at how easily she'd capitulated. "Now, if you'll come with me, we have our ship docked in Landing Bay-"

"No," he cut in peremptorily. "We're not taking your ship, Inej. It's my ship, or no ship."

She narrowed her eyes, but gave a sharp nod. "Alright. Let me just tell the others, contact someone to come and pick up our ship, and then we'll meet you in-?"

"Docking Bay 372," he replied smoothly. "Jesper and I will see you there."

Because Inej could enquire as to who "Jesper" was, he was getting up and limping out of the cantina on his injured leg.

* * *

 

Nina hadn't been thrilled about changing ships - nor had Matthias and Wylan, for that matter - but Inej had already dealt with enough grumbling from the Rebel agent she'd conscripted to fly the ship back to Base, so she ignored their complaints.

However, she couldn't ignore when they entered Docking Bay 372 to see Kaz's beloved ship, the _Barrel_ , sitting there waiting for them and Wylan said aloud, "What a piece of junk!"

And she couldn't quite stop herself from laughing at Kaz's face when she came out to greet them. "No one asked for your opinion, Imp," he sneered. His dark eyes flicked to Inej and back again. "Or did you defect?"

"Wylan's got a point, though," Inej cut in before Matthias ripped Kaz's head off. "You're _still_ flying that rust-bucket?"

He turned his glare on her. "That _rust-bucket_ happens to have saved my life - and _yours_ \- more times than I can count."

She grinned as she shot back, "Yeah. Because _I_ was the one flying it."

He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. He couldn't argue with the truth.

"Just get on, already," he instructed, then glanced behind them. "Jesper should be here in a few minutes, then we'll be on our way." To Inej: "I assume you'll be flying?"

"Of course."

He shook his head at that, and if Inej hadn't known any better, she might've said he was smiling. "Then get in the cockpit and start running the pre-flight checks." He glanced behind them again. "We're gonna want to get out of here fast. . ."

* * *

 

When Jesper waltzed into the cockpit of the _Barrel_ , he was more than a little peeved to find a woman sitting in his seat.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice more than a little indignant, "but who are you?"

She glanced up at him. "Inej. I assume you're Jesper."

"Yes," he confirmed, sliding into the co-pilot's seat beside her. "Why are you in my seat?"

She actually bothered to spare him more than a split-second look then; her finger hovered over a switch she was about to flick.

"Because I'm flying," she had the nerve to say, looking him in the eye and furrowing her brows.

The audacity - and sheer _oddness_ \- of it made Jesper gape. " _I'm_ the pilot."

"You can co-pilot," she said, turning her attention back to the console, "as I remember, this ship's a pain to fly without a co-pilot." Jesper had to agree with that, even as his curiosity was peaked. "But I'm piloting. I'm the only one who knows where we're going."

Jesper pressed his lips together tightly, but couldn't fault her logic. And it _was_ annoying to have to fly the _Barrel_ without a co-pilot.

He turned to the console and started helping with the start up sequence. "So you're the Rebel convoy we're being paid to assisting."

She waited until they'd lifted off to answer. "Yeah. I'm Captain Inej Ghafa, the woman you might've seen back there is Lieutenant Nina Zenik, and the other two are-"

The ship rocked underneath them.

Jesper's stomach dropped out of his body and hit the ground far, far below.

_"Blast it._ " His hands moved faster over the controls; next to him Inej did the same.

"You concentrate on getting us out of here, I'll plot the coordinates," she ordered. He obeyed. "What is this? Did Kaz get into some kind of local trouble?"

"I don't know," he said through gritted teeth. "I think he might have some outstanding debts - bounties and the like - one with Pekka Rollins-"

" _Pekka Rollins_?" The words were half incredulous shout, half yelp as the ship rocked underneath them again. "Pekka the _Hutt_? Crime lord?"

"That's the one."

"Oh, I always knew Kaz was crazy," she muttered, more to herself than to Jesper. He rose his eyebrow at the apparent familiarity she had with Kaz - _and_ Rollins - before he brushed it aside to focus on the situation at hand. He opened his mouth to shout for Kaz to get to the weaponry systems.

Inej was faster.

"Kaz! Nina! Start shooting back!" She finished fiddling with the navicomputer, then glanced at him. "That's the hyperspace coordinates set. Now we just have to get to space-" She was cut off with an _oomph_ as another shock shook the ship.

Inej stared out of the viewport, eyes wide.

" _Blast it, blast it, blast it_ -"

"What is it?" Jesper cried, then he glanced up and his eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Are those-"

"TIE fighters," Inej confirmed grimly.

" _Why-_ "

"I don't know! I must've been recognised or something." She muttered the last part, but the implications of that statement still sent Jesper's mind reeling.

Who was she that Imperial agents could recognise her and send a squadron of TIEs to shoot her out of the sky?

How did she know Kaz and his ship so well?

And what the _kriff_ had Jesper gotten himself into?

A fighter exploded off to the right. Jesper yelped as two more went down in the interim. Three perfect shots; a near impossible feat considering how fast those things moved. "Who-"

"Nina."

"How-"

"The Force."

Those two words stilled Jesper's mind and left him speechless, an icy cold sensation spreading from the cavern where his heart had stopped beating. He wanted to grab at the crystal hanging round his neck - he was _sure_ it was just as cold, all of a sudden - as his mother's voice played in his head, her screams ringing in his ears across time and space-

"How long have you been partners with Kaz?"

Inej's question snapped him out of his daze and he blinked before he answered, "A few months now? At most."

"Has he showed you why this ship's called the _Barrel_ yet?"

Jesper shook his head, and tried not to flinch as there was another explosion - to his left, this time. "No. . ."

"Then watch this."

And with that, Inej flicked a few switches, grabbed two of the toggles and then all the blood was rushing to Jesper's head and the sandy surface of Tatooine was above them with the infinite expanse of sky below and then they'd broken into the equally endless expanse of stars and-

"What," Jesper panted when he slumped back into his seat, the word more gasp of exhilaration than attempt at speech, "was that?"

Inej grinned. It was every bit as exhilarated as Jesper himself felt, and he found himself grinning back. " _That_ ," she said, "was the barrel roll that got us through that blockade." She swept them round until they were facing in the right direction, and Jesper glanced down as the yellow and brown planet far, far below them. "Now let's get out of here before they catch up."

She hit the button to jump to hyperspace and as always Jesper found himself staring at the tunnel of blue and black they found themselves in, watching it swirl. . .

There was a retching sound from behind them.

"Ah," Inej said mildly. "I forgot Matthias didn't like flying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork of Kaz for this chapter [here](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/177479111654/he-walked-forwards-for-maybe-another-two-steps) and for Jesper [here.](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/177915654279/when-jesper-waltzed-into-the-cockpit-of-the)


	3. Episode III

As it turned out, it had indeed been Matthias who'd proved. . . disagreeable. . . with the fancy flying they'd been doing, and vomited all over the dejarik board.

Kaz, his nose wrinkled in disgust, was eyeing the bodyguard like he wasn't sure whether to dice him, mince him, skin him, or all three.

"Go off on a rant at Matthias and I'll tell everyone what happened on Cato Neimoidia that one time," Inej warned, taking a seat next to Nina, whose eyebrows shot up into her hairline at the threat.

Kaz turned his glare on her. "Need I remind you, that wasn't my fault."

"No," Inej agreed, letting a smile creep its way onto her face again. She'd forgotten how much fun teasing Kaz was. "But it still happened. And I wouldn't say that particular story is exactly conducive to fostering respect and goodwill, is it?" She tilted her head, and her smile turned icy. She hadn't forgotten what had happened in the cantina. "Why don't you get something to clean this mess up with, then?"

Kaz pursed his lips. "Careful, Inej, or I might forget that favour I owe you and charge you the full ten thousand."

She narrowed her eyes further, but countered, "Then I'll just call in the few thousand _other_ favours you owe me."

Kaz couldn't find a response to that. Glowering, he stalked off to pick up something to clean with.

Inej felt all the tension drain out of her as he went, and she leaned her head on Nina's shoulder. Her friend's hand came up round her waist and squeezed twice, the weight a comforting warmth against her side.

It hit her after a moment that everyone else was still sitting in silence.

"What," Jesper began, "in the nine hells was that?"

She slated him a tired glance. Today had been exhausting, between flying for dear life, meeting with Kaz, arguing with Kaz - everything about Kaz was exhausting. "That was Kaz being Kaz."

"Yeah, I got _that_ ," Jesper snapped back, "but-" He cut himself off after a pointed look from Inej and a mouthed _Later_. Instead, he turned to Wylan, sitting down next to him. "I'm Jesper, by the way. I'm the pilot. Well," he added, shooting her a glance that was half-bitter, half-accepting, "when _she's_ not flying, apparently."

Wylan didn't have the energy to muster up a smile, but he said, "I'm Wylan. And this is Matthias."

"You're the one who was vomiting, huh?" Jesper grinned; Matthias glowered. "Don't like flying, much?"

"Flying's for droids," the bodyguard grumbled, sounding as unprofessional as Inej had heard him. "At least droids wouldn't end up throwing everything on its axis and have us clinging on for dear life."

"Matthias. . ." Wylan whispered fretfully, but after a sideways glance at him, his bodyguard ultimately ignored the admonishment.

"You should listen to the kid," Jesper supplied helpfully. "I mean, if you dislike flying so much, we can always set a bumpier course. Get you to appreciate the thrill of it a bit more." Matthias was fuming, by now. "Did you know this ship once made the Kessel Run in a record flight?" He patted the bench lovingly.

Inej nodded along. "It's true," she admitted. "We once made it in fourteen parsecs."

"Twelve."

She lifted her head from Nina's shoulder to look at Jesper. "What?"

"Twelve. Kaz and I made it in twelve parsecs, once. Well," he added, "Kaz can't fly the ship, so technically _I_ made it in twelve parsecs."

Inej's mouth dropped open almost of its own accord. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you-"

"Flyboys and flygirls," Nina said loudly over the top of them both, looking at Matthias and Wylan, "are insufferable." She stood up and grabbed Inej's wrist, dragging her halfway across the room. "Get into the cockpit, you two. Settle your differences there, so we don't have to hear the pissing contest that ensues. We'll dump our stuff in the bunks and set ourselves up for a long trip in the meantime."

She shoved them both into the cockpit. They exchanged incredulous glances as the door slammed shut behind them.

"I thought a parsec was a measure of distance?" Wylan asked into the ensuing silence. No one listened to him.

* * *

 

"So you're a Jedi," Matthias said sometime later, once Wylan had gone to stake a claim on one of the cabins, his eyes narrowed and tone. . . less than impressed.

Nina resisted the urge to deadpan her response - Zoya would _not_ approve - and instead raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

Matthias crossed his arms - an attempt to make himself look bigger, she knew. She fumbled for the Force and probed the man in front of her. He seemed. . . tense. Anxious? Angry? Hateful? Worried?

All of the above, Nina realised. But the most domineering emotion of all: Fear.

And yet he clung to his sneering bravado for just a little longer. "Prove it."

She raised the other eyebrow to join the first, then. Instead of answering out loud, she raised a hand, ignoring the way Matthias flinched at the action. Her satchel, lying innocuously on the bench, trembled for a moment, and then her lightsaber emerged from its depths and flew in a flawless arc to land in her hand.

She ignited it. The rosy colour of the blade stained the floor pink.

Matthias's face had gone stark white; he was whispering words she couldn't quite make out over the humming of her saber. She turned it off, and cocked her head at him. "That proof enough for you?"

His lips were still moving soundlessly. Nina frowned. "You alright?"

She took a step forward, clipping her lightsaber to her belt as she did so, but he shrunk back, a snarl on his face. "Get _away_ from me, Jedi scum."

She felt an answering sneer begin to form on her own lips. _Typical_. "I guess there's more Imp in you than I thought," she scoffed. "The moment you see something or someone you don't understand, you decry it with _'scum'_." She shook her head, picked up her satchel and made for one of the bunk rooms. She didn't have to listen to this. "You're not with the Empire anymore, _defector_ ," she called over her shoulder. "And you'll find that the Rebellion has very different ideas on the Jedi and Sith to your precious regime."

"You're right," came the reply. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. Matthias was standing now, his arms and stance spread wide, his hands clenched into fists. "I'm with the Alliance to Restore the Republic. And the Jedi weren't just enemies to the Empire - they were traitors to the Republic, too, before it fell."

She gaped at him, her spine locking up and going rigid. "You- you actually believe that," she whispered, half to herself. She said it again, louder: "You _actually_ believe that- _that_ -"

"That what?"

"That _nonsense! Propaganda!_ Complete and utter _bantha shit_!"

"If your Order didn't betray the Republic," Matthias spat, "then why are you all dead?"

Nina pressed her lips tightly together; she was mortified to feel tears spark to life behind her eyes. _I won't cry. Not here. Not now._

"Because Emperor Morozova killed us all!" She was screaming, a dim part of her brain registered. She was screaming about it. "Because his _apprentice_ Darth Koroleva _hunted us down_ and _executed_ us!"

Matthias stilled at that. "Koroleva? You mean-"

"Silver armour, speaks through a vocoder, carries a crimson lightsaber? Yeah, I mean her."

"The Emperor's right hand woman." She didn't miss the way he shuddered at the thought.

"You've had experiences with her?"

Matthias gritted his teeth. "Too many. She's terrifying."

"She killed my master."

He looked up, then, and met her eye. "What?"

"She killed my Jedi Master - my teacher. Zoya told me to hide while they fought, and Koroleva slaughtered her."

Matthias pursed his lips, but said nothing. Nina could sense that, despite their shared animosity for the Sith Lord, he couldn't bring himself to say he was sorry for a Jedi's death.

Because he wasn't.

To avoid his conflicted gaze, Nina looked down at her brown satchel. Clutching the belly of it, she could feel the hard metal of the second lightsaber at the bottom, digging into her palm. The lightsaber she'd recovered from the battlefield that fateful day, before Koroleva could add it as a trophy to her collection.

She looked up at Matthias again, face solemn. "I suggest, Helvar, that you start opening yourself up to the fact that most of the Empire's policies are pure propaganda. Because you're with the Rebellion now." He shifted uncomfortably at that. She turned to start heading for the door Wylan had disappeared into. "And you'll soon find that Emperor's favourite thing to do," she finished as she shut it behind her, "is lie."

* * *

 

They could hear a dim conversation going on in the main bulk of the ship, but Inej and Jesper sat in an initial befuddled silence after they were thrown into the cockpit.

" _Twelve parsecs?_ " Inej broke said silence with.

Jesper's mouth tugged to the side. "Yup."

Inej shook her head, half in denial, half in amazement. "Wow. You must be an outstanding pilot."

Jesper scratched his arm. "Yeah, well," he said. "You're not so bad yourself."

They shared a smirk, before silence fell again. Inej stared out at the swirling blue of hyperspace, blinking to clear her vision every once in a while.

"It's not meant to be good, staring at hyperspace for ages," Jesper commented idly, gazing at the console.

Inej looked back at him briefly. "Oh?"

"There's an old folk tale that staring at hyperspace for too long makes you go mad."

She tore her eyes away fully, at that. "I'll keep it in mind."

Silence fell for another beat or two, before Jesper blurted out, "How do you know Kaz?"

Inej blinked. "We used to be partners. He'd do the smooth-talking and all the business transactions while I flew the ship."

"Why'd you split up?" Jesper frowned at the console.

Inej shrugged. "I got a moral code; he didn't. I left to join the Rebellion; he didn't."She paused, then turned to look at him. Jesper glanced up to meet her eye. "How long did you say you two have been working together?"

It was Jesper's turn to shrug, then, though there was something. . . forced. . . about the gesture. "A few months now." He had to clear his throat before he continued, "My dad died a little before that, I'd incurred a few gambling debts, mum died several years before, and I'd always wanted to become a merchant or something anyway." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "So I left Corellia to become a smuggler instead."

Inej quirked her brow. "Corellia? That explains the Core accent."

"I don't have an accent-"

"You said _mum_. Not _mom_. That's a Core accent."

Jesper grinned. "Can't argue with that, I suppose."

Inej patted the console, somewhat lovingly. "So you've just been ferrying Kaz around the galaxy since then?"

"Yeah, well, it's not like he can fly himself, can he?"

"He can."

Jesper turned his head at that. "What?"

Inej met his gaze head on. "Kaz can pilot a ship himself. He just chooses not to."

Jesper shook his head, like there was a ringing in his ears he couldn't quite dispel. "What?" He didn't give her a chance to respond before he asked, "Why?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "Your guess is as good as mine. But I've only ever seen him fly the ship once, and that was when I was too injured to do it myself."

Sheer, brightly-coloured clothing stained with blood, her own panting loud in her ears as the ship rocked underneath her, the twin mantras of _I'm free I'm free I'm free_ and _We're gonna die we're gonna die we're gonna die_ mingling in her mind-

She blinked. "It wasn't the best of times. Kaz flying the ship was the only chance we had of getting out of there alive."

Jesper forced a chuckle. "Knowing Kaz's proclivity for trouble, I can believe that."

"You can believe what?" said the subject of their conversation, almost defensively. Kaz stood in the entrance to the cockpit, clutching the frame tightly, as impassive as ever but with an ever tightening grip.

Jesper tensed up immediately. Inej couldn't quite decipher the emotions that flitted across his face.

"You know what," he said conversationally, to Inej, to himself, but not to Kaz. Not really. "I think I'll head back and made sure no one's stolen my bunk. I don't want to get into another fight with Matthias." He looked at Kaz, then. "Why don't you stay up with Inej, Kaz? After all, since you can apparently _fly the ship yourself_ you'll be just the person to call on in an emergency, won't you?"

"Jesper?" Kaz asked, looking confused and somewhat - to Inej's surprise - concerned. Defensive. _But what is he defending?_

The Corellian just pushed past him out of the cockpit, leaving him to stagger back in shock.

Tentatively, Kaz crept forwards to sit himself in the co-pilot's seat. "What did you two talk about?"

He sounded grumpy again. Good. The concern - _vulnerability_ \- had been unnerving.

Inej just shrugged, a small smile on her face. "Stuff."

_"Stuff?"_

"Stuff."

"That's such a Jesper answer." Kaz shook his head. "I regret ever letting you two meet."

"Well, we have now, and you can't change that." There was something pointed behind the words, but not even Inej herself could tell what it was.

She stood up. "I think I'll be heading back to pick out a bunk as well. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

"Where to?"

Inej just smiled, and shook her head. "Don't look at hyperspace for too long, by the way," she added as she left. "Supposedly you go mad."

Then she left Kaz to his rueful cogitations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nina fanart for this chapter [here.](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/177652050874/she-raised-the-other-eyebrow-to-join-the-first)
> 
> yes, I gave Nina a pink lightsaber. No, I don't know if they exist in the Star Wars universe. No, I don't care either way.


	4. Episode IV

Several days, arguments, games of dejarik and barbed comments later, Inej sat in the pilot's seat again as they reverted back into realspace.

"You know," her companion said thoughtfully as he gazed out at the now-stationary stars, "I never get tired of seeing that. Not since I was a little kid."

Inej smiled to herself as she flicked a few switches on the console. "Me neither."

Then the strangely intimate moment was gone, as seemingly everyone else on the ship filed into the cockpit. There were only two chairs beyond the ones Inej and Jesper were in; Nina quickly - not to mention imperiously - occupied one, while Matthias had a glare-off with Kaz while Wylan snagged the second. Freshly irritated and impatient, Kaz leaned between Inej and Jesper to peer at the world below, his weight on his good leg, despite the blaster wound having fully healed several days before.

Though half of the planet was in shadow, the part visible was a white-flecked blue. Inej felt Kaz stiffen next to her as he realised what those white flecks were.

"Are those _lightning storms_?" he asked incredulously. He looked at Inej for confirmation; she nodded. "Are you _crazy_? Where are we?"

Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Jesper beat her to it before she could. "You know, Kaz, if you trust my and Inej's flying so little, why don't you fly the ship yourself? I've heard you're a stellar pilot when you want to be."

Kaz glared at Inej. She thought she heard Nina cough something that sounded suspiciously like "flyboys" but she couldn't be sure.

"Eadu," she supplied in response to his earlier question. "We're in the Eadu system, sector Bheriz, Outer Rim Territories. And yes: it's a mountainous planet famous for its nerf-herders, massive amounts of rainfall, and lightning storms."

Kaz's face drained of colour. "Inej. . ."

"What're we doing here, though?" Nina chimed in, leaning forwards to offer her opinion. "What's our objective - what made us come here?"

Inej kept her eyes on the cerulean planet as they circled closer, but she turned her head to the side to answer, "The datachip with the information that led to us finding _out_ about this so-called planet-killer credited and referenced Eadu several times. We traced the signal to here, and based on _other_ data stored in the chip. . . Well, we thought this place was our best bet to find more info about the project - and how to stop it. That's all this trip is," she reiterated, actually glancing back to give Nina a pointed look. "Reconnaissance."

Nina seemed to get the message, though she sat back with her arms crossed, and argued, "They wouldn't have sent the _Wraith_ on a _reconnaissance mission_."

Jesper jolted into a rigidly upright position next to her, but Inej paid it no mind.

"I'm a spy, Nina. Reconnaissance missions are my _job_."

Her friend couldn't argue with that. "Fine. But we get in there, and once we've got what information we want, we can-"

"Leave without ever letting them realise we've been here," Inej finished calmly. "Without ever letting them know that we know about this project." She gave her a wry glance out of the corner of her eye. "You just want to blow something up."

Nina rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't lug all those thermal detonators from one ship to the other for no reason."

Inej wasn't inclined to think that Matthias's sudden onset of coughing was coincidental.

"I like blowing stuff up," Wylan voiced, almost hesitantly, but it got everyone's attention.

Every gaze in the cockpit snapped to him. His eyes widened as a blush consumed his cheeks.

"I- I'm good with chemicals," he hastened to explain. "Reactions. Explosions."

Inej noted with some dismay that both Nina and Jesper were nodding grimly. "Could come in handy," the latter said with a slight grin on his face.

She struggled not to beat her head against the console. She might end up hitting the eject button or something and kill them all.

"We're approaching the planet now," she said instead, pointedly interrupting their discourse on pyrotechnics. "Get into the meeting area and strap yourself in, unless you want to get thrown across the room thanks to a stray lightning bolt." She didn't glance back as she said, "Sorry, Matthias, but this is going to be bumpy," so she didn't see the glare he shot her, but she entertained herself briefly by imagining it.

The she focused on the task at hand.

The planet's atmosphere was coming up fast; Inej could make out the rough-hewn texture of storm clouds that obscured the world beneath like a protective coat of paint. She flinched, her hands skittering on the controls, when the first arc of blue-white lightning lanced beyond the viewport.

"I guess you were faking bravado for Kaz's benefit back there?"

Inej pressed her lips into a tight smile. "Of course."

Jesper glanced at her. "I'd have thought _the Wraith_ would be more used to nerve-wracking sights."

"The Wraith," she grumbled back, "is used to the cover of darkness and tough computer security. _Not_ high-voltage lightning storms which could electrocute us all if we don't do this carefully."

"Are there any other types of lightning storm?" Jesper teased lightly, then he glanced over at her again. "Loosen your grips on the controls; it's just going to make it harder for you to move quickly and tire you out prematurely."

Letting a long, slow breath out between her teeth, Inej did so.

"So you're really the Wraith, are you?" Inej clenched her jaw. She did not want to have this conversation _now_. "The being with the third highest 'dead or alive' bounty in the world?"

"Yup." Her teeth were still grinding together. She should probably stop that; it hurt.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Jesper open his mouth again and she tensed, expecting more questions she really didn't want to answer.

But what came out was: "You're younger than I am."

"I'm twenty."

"And I'm twenty-one, but I still don't know how the hell to navigate this galaxy. I don't understand what's going on, politically, socially _or_ economically. I'm not mature enough to decide whether or not I think it's worth joining a cause in which the average lifespan of a pilot is just over two weeks."

She hissed out another breath between her teeth - half at the inquiry, half at the lightning that flashed less than two metres to her left. She eased the ship a shade to the right as she said, "I had. . . unfortunate circumstance. . . as a child. They led to me having somewhat rigid ideals of what right and wrong are."

Jesper was silent. Patient.

Inej took another deep breath. "I was a dancing slave in Pekka the Hutt's palace."

There was a jolt in the ship, startled cries from behind them, and Jesper cursing under his breath.

"That was me, not lightning," he explained hurriedly upon seeing her face. "Sorry."

She steadied her breathing again. A good few minutes passed before she spoke.

"From my point of view, any regime that not only allows, but _actively encourages_ slavery, is evil. And I know that I was enslaved by a Hutt, over whom the Empire has no jurisdiction, but. . . It could have just as easily been the Empire. It just wasn't. And so I'm going to risk my life time and time again, in the vague hope that for every new mission I complete, the chance that someone else will have to go through that diminishes ever so slightly. A Republic can do better. The Republic _will_ do better."

There was an awkward silence in the cockpit. And the only attempt Jesper made to break it was with a quiet, "I believe you."

Studying him out of the corner of her eye, Inej wondered if Jesper wasn't as emotionally immature as he claimed himself to be.

And then suddenly they could see more than a few feet beyond the viewport, and the craggy terrain of the planet was coming up fast. Inej sucked in a breath, reflexively throwing herself back against the chair even as Jesper yanked them up so they just skimmed the ground, and she could let the breath out of her lungs again.

"Starting the landing cycle now," Jesper said, then grinned over at her. "See? It wasn't so bad. We made it through the storm."

Inej glared at him, even as she huffed a laugh of her own. "This is why I spy for the Rebellion, rather than fly."

That was when their ship's comlink lit up. A message played over it, fuzzy with interference - presumable from the storms.

_". . .fied vessel. . . transmit. . . repeat. . . codes. . ."_

"Halt the landing cycle," Inej ordered instinctively, standing up to get closer to the comlink. "They're hailing us."

"They're hailing us?" Jesper asked, panic in his voice. He glanced at her, and Inej was sure her brow was furrowed in equal worry. "I thought you said this mission was supposed to be clandestine?"

"It was," she replied. "And there's usually not much activity around Eadu. Why they would be actively searching for ships and asking for the correct codes? Is there an Imperial garrison nearby? I was under the impression Eadu didn't have one. . ."

They exited the last storm cloud and suddenly the terrain of the planet was spread out beneath them, like an unfurled map. There were still too many peaks and mountains for Inej to see far in any direction - to try and spot an Imperial facility in any direction - but the signal did clear up significantly.

The transmission repeated. _"Unidentified vessel, we have you on our scopes. Please transmit correct clearance codes to allow for landing."_

"Clearance codes?" Jesper seemed to be starting to panic now. The was a squeaking sound behind them, and Inej turned in her seat to see Wylan standing there, face ashen. "We don't have any-"

_"Unidentified vessel, we have you on our scopes. If you do not transmit the correct clearance codes, we will be forced to open fire. I repeat: unidentified vessel, we have you-"_

There was a clatter of footsteps behind them; Inej started minutely. Wylan, ignoring the shock written on both their faces, strode forward to take the comlink from Jesper. "Transmitting clearance codes now," he said into it, then tapped at the device for a while until he set it down again.

Inej kept her silence, but Jesper looked from Wylan to the comlink and back again. "I knew we brought you along for a reason, lordling."

Wylan scowled. "Don't call me that."

"Your dad's a rich merchant, right? Would you prefer 'merchling'?"

 _"Codes verified. You will be provided with a flight path to follow. Do not deviate from this approved flight path, or you will be destroyed. Welcome to Eadu, Jan Van Eck."_ The comlink clicked off.

Wylan slumped into one of the free chairs with a sigh.

Jesper, on the other hand, seemed full of nervous energy. "So, what do we do now? Land when they tell us, wait for them to board us, realise we're not Wylan's dad, capture and interrogate us as Rebels and Rebel sympathisers? Eventual execution?"

"No," Inej said. "Stay calm, Jesper. I've got a plan."

" _Stay calm?_ " He seemed quite. . . jittery. "Easy for you to say, I guess; you're the blasted Wraith. You've probably been on several thousand missions that've gone awry and still pulled off the objective with relative ease. Me? This is my first time, and I've got to say that I'm not really liking it so far."

Jesper seemed to have a real chip on his shoulder about her identity as the Rebellion's most infamous spy.

Inej ignored it. "Wylan goes in with Matthias, pretends his father sent him as a representative to whatever function this is. He finds out what's going on and why, while I do some poking around in the facility itself. That is," she added, looking back at Wylan for the first time. He seemed a little pale, "if your father hasn't made your defection public knowledge."

Wylan snorted. "And ruin his precious image? Not a snowflake's chance in Mos Eisley."

Inej turned back to Jesper. "The rest of you, _hide_. Use Kaz's smuggling compartments if you have to. Just stay out of sight. If anyone questions why a lord's son has such a garbage heap of a ship, Wylan can just claim he has unusual tastes or something."

Jesper still looked green. "We're all gonna die."

"Possibly," Inej admitted. She didn't like sugar-coating things - not when it was life or death. "But we're less likely to die if we follow my plan than if we all just wait in the ship."

Jesper blew out a breath through his nose. "Alright. What do we do next?"

The comlink chimed, and Inej pulled up the message to see it only contained a string of coordinates - landing coordinates.

"We do as advised. We follow the approved flight path." Inej sat down again. "Starting the landing cycle now."

* * *

The surface of Eadu was rough and rocky, and Jesper entertained himself briefly as they landed by imagining how many octaves Kaz's voice would rise by if he found out they'd accidentally mutilated the underside of his ship by flying too low. Alas, they didn't, and he and Inej touched down lightly on a stretch of flat land shortly in front of what had looked some sort of facility from the air.

"An Imperial one, for sure, if it was ever in any doubt," Inej had said, squinting down at the grey cube dazzled with floodlights. "See? There's a bunch of _lambda_ shuttles over in that quadrant, not to mention how high tech the place is. There aren't that many places that have the credits to throw around on high quality buildings like that."

Jesper supposed the Wraith would know these things - he still couldn't believe he was sitting next to _the Wraith_ \- but he'd asked anyway. "How do you know it's not some company that's decided to use Eadu as the beginning of their galactic dominance or something? It would make sense, Wylan's dad being a merchant and all."

Inej had smiled and tapped the console. "I did some research into Eadu the moment I learned the name of the place. It has a population of around two and a half million, most of whom are nerf-herders in small villages. Other than that, this place has no useful resources. The storms make comm transmissions difficult to send. There's no reason anyone would want to build a facility here," she'd paused, then added, "unless you wanted to hide something."

Jesper had sighed as they soared over the facility, high enough to be out of reach of ground-based scanners and human (or near-human) eyesight. "So finding out what's going on here is our best shot."

Inej was already fiddling with the controls as she looked at the place they were due to land, but she'd nodded. "Absolutely."

Then she'd sent Wylan back into the main meeting room to debrief the others.

Now, she rose from the pilot's seat, glancing out of the viewport at the crags and rocks around them. "Not the typical place for a social function," she noted. Jesper followed her into the main meeting area, where she clipped on the pouch she wore round her waist and shrugged on a brown jacket. She pulled a hair-tie out of one of the pockets to begin to pull her long hair back from her face as she stared, hard-eyed, at Wylan. "Don't mess this up, or we're dead, merchling." She drew on a cap and goggles, keeping them up on her forehead rather than over her eyes.

Jesper snickered. He genuinely didn't think he'd ever seen the shade of red Wylan turned before.

Nina was gazing at her friend somewhat sadly, with a small smile on her smile. She hugged her, and said, "May the Force be with you."

Inej hugged her back. "You too."

Nina glanced up, then, as if suddenly realising that everyone else was staring at her intimate moment with her friend. "And with the rest of you too, I guess."

Surprisingly enough, it was Matthias who chuckled at that.

"May the Force be with us all," Kaz echoed. Jesper gave him a startled look, but his dark eyes were fixed on Inej. She looked everywhere but at him.

And true to form, Kaz was still the only one Inej hadn't make eye contact with by the time she gave them all a collective nod, then slipped down the ramp and out into the torrential rain.

Matthias clapped his hands, oddly chipper. Jesper watched him with suspicion as he began to herd Wylan away from the door. "Well then, let's the rest of us start getting into those smuggling compartments you mentioned."

Wylan pulled himself out of his bodyguard's grasp. "We're not staying here. You and I are infiltrating the facility."

Matthias went very, very still. "What."

Wylan stepped back, until he was in line with Jesper. "That's the plan. I used my father's clearance codes to get us in, and if he doesn't turn up soon people will start to get suspicious. I can go in, claim he sent me as a replacement or a stand in, and hopefully find out what's going on - what this function's about." Matthias's mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Wylan said firmly, "You and I are going in."

Matthias glanced around at the rest of them, as if hoping that would correct or embellish the plan in a way he found less horrifying - or as if he was wishing they weren't here at all. "No, my lord," he said, grabbing Wylan's arm. "We're not."

Wylan's patience seemed to have run out: he pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a sharp breath, tugging gently on his entrapped arm. "Matthias, why don't you want to go in there? What are you so afraid of?"

The bodyguard's mouth opened and closed for a moment, flapping like a fish. He looked around the crew, and when he looked back at Wylan, his grip on his arm tightened. "We're on Eadu," he said. "You don't know much about it, but I overheard your father mention it to your underlings, once. The security here is through the roof. Mapping the mountains, mapping the hallways, security holocams everywhere, tripwires, lasers - you name it." He took a deep breath. "My lord - Wylan," he began earnestly. Almost desperately. "If you set foot in there, you're not coming back out."

Wylan had stopped moving. But it didn't matter, because the hush that followed Matthias's admission was short-lived anyway.

 _"What?"_ There as a sort of seismic anger in Nina Zenik's voice - righteous fury, protective worry, fierceness that would shame a nexu. She marched up to Matthias, a snarl on her face, and jabbed a finger in his face.

"You're telling me," her voice was a low hiss, "that you allowed my dearest friend to go out into that sort of minefield _without warning her_?" Matthias stared, stony-eyed, and Nina's face contorted. Jesper half expected her to tear the Imperial's face off there and then.

But she didn't She turned around and marched away - to where her assigned sleeping bunk was. When she came back, she'd thrown on a jacket similar to Inej's - they must be standard issue in the Rebellion, Jesper thought numbly - and clipped a blaster and her lightsaber at her hip.

It was Wylan who finally had the nerve to ask, "Where are you going?"

"To find Inej," Nina threw back over her shoulder. "And make sure she understands the danger of this blasted planet."

 _"What?"_ Jesper wasn't the only one who gave out the horrified cry; he and Wylan exchanged terrified glances. "You can't-"

She was already gone.

"Matthias, go after her," Wylan said immediately, staring down the lowered ramp. Jesper could see his pulse pounding in his throat.

Matthias immediately objected, "My lord-"

 _"That's an order."_ Jesper didn't know if that was anger or fear in his voice, but it was hard. Brittle.

And the way Matthias was looking at his employer. . . His face was affronted, aghast, offended sensibilities evident in the frown.

 _No,_ Jesper realised. _Not offended sensibilities._

_Offended honour._

"Go!"

Matthias went. He didn't even bother to put on a jacket before he charged out into the dark, pouring rain.

Wylan's posture sagged; he looked to Jesper for support. Jesper looked to Kaz, who'd taken a seat at some point amongst all the drama, but the smuggler just gave him a droll look.

Jesper swallowed. "We need to move on with the plan." He looked down at Wylan. "You need to get in there."

Wylan was still staring at the lowered ramp. "I need someone to come with me."

"I'll come," Jesper offered instantly. He didn't care why Wylan _needed_ a bodyguard - two was better than one, anyway. And he did _not_ want to stay on the ship on his own with Kaz. Not with everything that'd been floating around in the air for the past few days.

Wylan looked surprised, then grateful. Jesper didn't bother examining the flash of warmth that gave him.

"Let's go then," Wylan said, returning his gaze to the exit. "We don't have much time."


	5. Episode V

The rain was unrelenting. It wound its way under the collar of her jacket and down her back with ease, and Inej couldn't stop herself from shivering as she found more invisible handholds in the rock as she climbed, hand over hand, foot over foot, the motions reassuringly repetitive.

The peak she'd chosen was slightly taller than the facility - she could theoretically leap from the top to the roof of the building, and try to find an entrance there. Or she could scale down the walls from there and break in through a window. Or she could-

She caught her breath. A holocam whirred just a few metres away, turning this way and that on a set pattern. She could try and climb past it-

No, she couldn't; it was moving too fast.

Instead, she glanced upwards, her goggles long since put back on her forehead - they'd been blurry with rain, and they served better as visors anyway. Lightning flashed, thunder crackled, and Inej counted under her breath, the words as steady on her tongue as the pitter-patter of raindrops on her back.

 _Now_. As the lightning flashed again, she raised her blaster and fired at the holocam. There was a discharge of light and sound, then the fried structure fell to the ground, some dozen metres below.

She ran her eyes along the rest of the building. There were several holocams like that in sight, set at regular intervals into the duracrete walls - but there was a blind spot now. And one blind spot was all she needed.

She sheathed her blaster at her hip, and gripped the rock again, hauling herself up onto the ledge. Her scarf slipped long enough for cold rainwater to splash on her face and she flinched, not quite able to stop her teeth from chattering. She ignored it as she eyed the solid, rain-slick roof.

She jumped.

She landed with a clatter, softening the fall with a roll, her blaster shaken loose from the impact and skidding away across the roof. Snagging it with one hand, she stopped herself face down on her elbows, heart hammering like a piston.

Her legs trembled as she got them underneath her, but held, and she half-crept half-crawled across the roof. Her elbows stung; her gloves were in tatters. The surface underneath her was rougher than it looked. Wind-blown and battered, she did her best to stay away from the edge lest she get buffeted off it.

It was a long way to fall.

There was a whooshing noise above her, a sort of groaning, and years of experience instantly had Inej dropping flat to the ground, fervently hoping the wrinkled back of her jacket disguised her well enough among the duracrete. The _lambda_ shuttle passed over quickly. As it left, Inej squinted at it; it was larger than usual, flown with more expertise, and were those TIEs surrounding it? Was that an escort of fighters?

Inej pressed her lips together, distinctly uneasy.

* * *

 

"Zenik!" someone shouted behind her. "Nina Zenik!"

Nina turned, her scowl already a full-blown snarl. "What do you want, Helvar? Haven't you done enough damage already?"

His broad, fair form emerged from the sheets of driving rain like a vessel out of the mist. "You need to come back. Inej will deal with the extra security herself; she's the _Wraith_. I'm sure she'll be fine, but we'll blow everything if we're out here much-"

"Quiet." Nina held up a hand to hush him, then looked towards the facility, where a light had just turned on with one of the windows. "Look."

Matthias looked.

The window was on the second floor, and the white light streaming from it cast a beam into the rain; the individual droplets looked like flashing silver fish. But what was more: the window was cracked open.

"This seems too fortuitous to be real," Matthias murmured, but she knew he was having the same thoughts as her. _A way in_. "Think it's a trap?"

Nina stretched out with her feelings into the Force. She'd never been very good at this part, but though the Force quivered with tension, there was nothing tense about _this_ situation. The way forward was clear.

"No," she whispered. "It's not a trap. We need to get to that window, and get in."

"Good plan." There was a definite tinge of sarcasm to Matthias's voice. " _How?_ "

Nina eyed the duracrete wall. "I can get up there," she said, "and then I'll come downstairs and open the door for you."

"I'm sorry," Matthias began incredulously, " _what-_ "

Nina took a running leap and jumped.

It was a Force-powered jump, and for a split-second in mid air she felt _good_ \- she could feel Matthias shock (coupled with grudging admiration). Could feel the flecks of life back at the ship and inside the building and the trees and the plants and Inej creeping across the roof some way away - and most peculiarly of all, she could feel a presence inside the room she was jumping to. A presence too bright to be anything but Force-sensitive.

Then she grabbed the window ledge and her feet hit the wall with a _thwack_. Her boots gripped the duracrete well, but her shoulders shrieked with the strain of holding herself aloft and she imagined her fingers creaking from her tight grip. She scrabbled upwards, got an elbow under the window and tried to open it further.

No luck. It had a fixed latch on it; this was the furthest it was go.

Grunting with the effort, she manoeuvred herself so her left arm was inside the building, a hook keeping her tethered. There was a spike of fear from inside the room, but she ignored it. _Not now._

Because _now_ she'd lost her foothold on the wall and her feet were dangling in mid air, several metres above the ground.

Because _now_ she was fumbling from the lightsaber at her waist and igniting it, slicing through the restraining latch on the window and swinging it open.

Because _now_ she was hauling herself through the opening and collapsing to the floor in an undignified heap, and she probably shouldn't have done that-

Tentative footsteps made her freeze. She tensed up even further when a querulous voice asked, "Are you a Jedi?"

Blast it. She knew all too well what the punishment for being a Jedi was under Morozova's Empire. _Blast it, blast it, blast it-_

But if she was doomed, she was at least going to look her doom in the eye. Nina tilted her head back.

Only to see a teenage boy standing in front of her, clad in sleepwear, wide brown eyes fixed on the lightsaber in her hand.

The boy tilted his chin up, lips wobbling. His expression was so raw that Nina felt something inside her shatter in response to it.

"Are you?" he asked, eyes alight with a feverish gleam. "Are you a Jedi? Have you come to save me?"

* * *

 

As it turned out, Jesper really hated autocrats.

They found the main entrance mainly by guesswork, and by the time they were there, both Jesper and Wylan were already soaked. The bored-looking Imperial officer at the entry - the rank bars on his chest identified him as a Captain - glanced at the two of them and his lip curled. His eyes were narrowed when he glared at him, then at the datapad he held in his hand. He didn't seem to want to be here.

Jesper shared the sentiment.

"Names?" the officer drawled in a high-class Core accent. He squinted at them, scanning them from head to toe. Jesper had changed into one of Matthias's sets of clothes, so he did _look_ the part of an Imperial bodyguard. He suspected it was something to do with his posture, the way he walked, the way he _stood._ Jesper might have been raised in a Core world, but he was a piece of Outer Rim scum, through and through.

A criminal, to most minds.

It certainly wasn't Wylan drawing the attention. He'd also changed into fancier clothes - why he'd brought them along, Jesper didn't know, but he had - and despite his less-than-intimidating stature his back was straight, his chin up, his gaze cutting. He looked like a spoilt, arrogant brat.

It was perfect.

"Wylan Van Eck," he said imperiously, the words more an order than an answer. "And my bodyguard." He didn't offer a name. "I'm here on behalf of my father, Lord Van Eck, who regrettably found he cannot make it today. I trust you will make it worth my time?"

The Captain visibly shrunk under Wylan's scrutiny, and hastened to agree, "Yes, of course, sir- my lord. If you would come inside, out of the rain; you look positively frozen."

"I agree." Wylan distastefully patted his own head and the sodden mass of curls there. "This indignity is hardly befitting. This function had best be of some importance, for me to have come to this sodden lump of a world for it."

"I shall request a towel to be sent for at once," the Imperial continued, and he opened the door and walked with them inside. Jesper pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. Imps' acceptance of authority really bordered on idiocy, sometimes. "And I'm sure it shall be rewarding for you, my lord - after all, your father's efforts will come to a culmination with the unveiling of this weapon."

There was no apparent shift in Wylan's bearing; Jesper did his best to follow his example. But suddenly there was a sense of urgency between them.

This was where the weapon was.

These monochrome, plain corridors they traversed held the information the Alliance so desperately needed.

They were in the right place.

This was it.

"Indeed."

Wylan's voice seemed to terrify the Captain even more - what power did Van Eck wield among these people, Jesper wondered, that ignited such fear at the prospect of offending his son? And why did Wylan appear to have no knowledge of it?

"Forgive me if I spoke out of turn, my lord," the Imp babbled on. "I- I understand it's classified, need-to-know, but forgive me for assuming-"

"I am not angry, Captain." Wylan held up a hand to silence him. It was almost unnerving, how good at this he was. _How much practice has he had?_ "Just lead me somewhere I can relieve myself, and recover some dignity."

"Of course, my lord. Then, if I may presume to lead you to the presentation room, it's due to start soon. We were awaiting your arrival." A pause, then a shy, "I'm sure you'll find the demonstration most impressive."

_Demonstration?_

"I certainly hope so, Captain." Jesper heard the unspoken threat behind Wylan's words, and again he had to suppress a shiver. "I certainly hope so."

* * *

 

"Are you a Jedi?" the boy repeated, but the hope in his eyes was beginning to dwindle, fear growing instead. He took a step back. "Or are you Sith?"

 _Sith_. Nina wanted to spit on the word. The opposite of the Jedi, slaves to the Dark Side, thinking only of themselves. . .

"No," she said fiercely. "I am _not_ Sith." Then, more gently, seeing the boy's expression, "I am Jedi. My name is Nina Zenik." She paused, then - because the boy was a prisoner of the Empire, and seemed to like the Jedi, so maybe he might be sympathetic - said, "I'm with the Rebel Alliance."

The boy relaxed again, his breath escaping in a sigh of relief. "My name is Kuwei Yul-Bo," he said, voice shaky. "I'm the son of Bo Yul-Bayur."

"The scientist?" Kuwei nodded. Nina asked carefully, "Is he building a weapon for the Empire? A planet-killer?"

Kuwei went pale. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, he is, they forced him, but please, it's not his fault, I'm a hostage, don't kill him _please_ -"

"We're not here to kill him. We're not here to kill either of you. We're here to-" Nina paused, then glanced out the window. She could see Matthias dimly, standing outside in the rain. She needed to let him in.

Instead of saying, _We're here for reconnaissance_ , she said, "We're here to get you out."

Kuwei's face lit up, and he nodded emphatically. "Okay. How can I help?"

She nodded towards the door. "I suppose it's locked?" He nodded. "Well then, we'll just have to unlock it."

"There are security holocams in the hallway," he warned. "There's none in here, since they allow my father and I to have privacy, but there are plenty out there."

Nina bit her lip. "Are they watched all the time? Continuously?"

"No. But I don't know when-"

"They won't be paying attention to them now, then. Not with what's going on downstairs."

Kuwei nodded. "You're right. Everyone will be watching the demonstration."

Nina's muscles locked up as she turned to look at Kuwei. Her throat was bone dry, but she managed to croak, "What?"

"The demonstration," he said. "They're going to blow up a planet to show what the weapon's capable of."

Nina nodded, and forced herself to remain calm. "Okay. Okay. Just another instance of the Empire being evil. We can try to stop that as soon as I get my comrade inside. And to do that I have to get out of this room and get downstairs." She took a breath, then chuckled to herself. "I'm thinking ahead. Inej would be so proud."

Kuwei looked scared.

Nina didn't bother reassuring him that she was sane as she knelt in front of the door and pressed her hand to it. Stretching out with the Force, she felt the locking mechanism under her hand, felt the cogs and the bolts keeping this door closed, and _pushed_.

There was a grinding noise, and Nina stepped back as the door swung inwards. The corridor outside was empty.

Nina looked over her shoulder. "You coming?"

Navigating the corridors was tricky business - _they all look identical_ , Nina couldn't help but grouch - but soon enough she was facing a door, and could sense Matthias on the other side. She ran her eye over the durasteel - there was no latch or bolt keeping it shut, but a handprint scanner. Nina raised her eyebrow, and flicked her index finger to the left. The door popped open with a click.

Matthias scowled the moment he saw her. "Why didn't you just do that the first time?"

Nina really didn't want to admit that she'd forgotten she could. "Dramatic flair," she said instead, grin firmly affixed to her face.

Matthias grunted, and his gaze moved to Kuwei, who took a half-step back behind Nina at the look. "Who's this?"

"Kuwei Yul-Bo," she replied airily. "Yul-Bayur's son."

Matthias's mouth dropped open. They'd all heard Inej's rundown of the debriefing Senator Lantsov had given her. "Oh."

"And they're going to blow up a planet as a demonstration of the weapon, so we'd better move if we're going to stop it," Nina added, turning around and waking away.

 _"What?"_ seemed to be the standard answer for hearing that news. Matthias was no exception.

"You heard me." She turned to Kuwei. "Do you know where to go?" He shook his head. "Thought not."

"Great, then," Matthias huffed. "What do we do, wander around lost and wait for an officer to catch us?"

"Perhaps," Nina said, just as they reached a conjunction in the corridor. Several hallways branched off from here, all identical, and Nina surveyed them all thoughtfully. "This way," she said, nodding her head to the left.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"No." She resumed walking, her strides long and swift. Matthias cursed under his breath as he hurried to catch up. Kuwei seemed resigned. "I just have a feeling."


	6. Episode VI

Inej kept her eyes on the _lambda_ shuttle, squinting against the rain that coated her eyelashes. It swooped round the area twice - both times she flattened down against the duracrete and willed herself to look like rock - before it made for a landing pad on the opposite side of this vast facility. Inej gave chase, leaping from one building to the next. She didn't know who was in that shuttle, nor why they were arriving to the function at such a late hour, but something was off about this whole situation.

And that shuttle had something to do with it.

* * *

When they hit the first patrol, the Imps didn't even have enough time to shout for back up before Matthias unleashed a hail of blaster bolts at them. They dropped like stones.

Nina cast around for a room to shove their bodies in, and spotted a supply closet not far away. Huffing and grunting, she and Matthias dragged the three stormtroopers inside.

"Can you shoot a blaster?" she asked Kuwei. He nodded, and she snagged one off one of the troopers' belt to toss it to him.

"Can _you_ shoot a blaster?" Matthias asked her, scepticism in his voice. "Weren't the Jedi supposed to be peacekeepers?"

"Some actions are born of necessity." She reached for her own blaster, compared it to the stormtroopers' and shrugged. No point in swapping; hers was a better make anyway. "And some Jedi were astounding shots with the blaster. The Force manifests itself in different ways - I'm good at feeling people's physical condition, wounds and the like, but Alina Starkiller was said to be the best starpilot in the galaxy."

Matthias glanced over at her. "Alina Starkiller?"

"The Chosen One of the Jedi, fated to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force, whatever that means," Nina said, somewhat bitterly. She ran a hand over the lightsaber at her hip; the familiar shape of it was reassuring. Grounding. "Naturally, she died. Along with all the other Jedi."

"Ah." Contrary to the measure she'd taken of Matthias during that first. . . _discussion_. . . on the _Barrel_ several days ago, he was quiet. Through the Force he felt. . . sympathetic?

"My master trained her - I was Zoya's second padawan," Nina continued, still turning her lightsaber in her hand. "I think Senator Lantsov knew her as well. They were friends."

She shook her head. "Anyway, that's all in the past. Point is: yes, I can shoot a blaster. And we need to keep walking."

They picked up the pace. But, trailing behind him as he was, neither Nina nor Matthias noticed the peculiar expression that came across Kuwei's face.

* * *

The presentation turned out to be held in a large, semi-circular room overlooking a basin between two of the mountain peaks. Through a floor-to-ceiling window that wrapped round half the room, one could see into basin, where a small throng of people wearing the pale uniforms of Imperial scientists, stood clustered, beaten by the rain. They were surrounded by the grey and white entourage of Imperial officers and stormtroopers.

As miserable as they looked, Wylan envied them. At least they weren't forced to pretend to be something they weren't, or use the name of the father they loathed (and loved) to commit high treason. At least they didn't have to make small talk with bestial aristocrats who thought they owned the world.

There was a long table set up along the wall not taken up by the window, set with high calibre food Wylan recognised to have graced his father's table more than once over the years. A huge range of morsels were laid out for the attending aristocrats, from worlds that spanned the galaxy. Luxuries paid for by the blood of civilisations.

Wylan looked away. He had always hated decadence, but now it made him want to vomit.

"You won't be trying any of the delicacies, sir?" their escort inquired nervously. Wylan, not trusting himself to speak, shook his head.

In front of the large window, there were an array of chairs spread across the room in concentric half-circles. Some Imperials had already taken their seats, towards the front, and were peering eagerly down at the scientists.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Jesper murmured. Wylan had to agree.

"Citizens of our glorious Empire!" someone shouted. Everyone in the room turned to gaze at the man at the front of the room, tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in a grey officer's uniform. "I am General Retvenko, and we invite you all to witness the culmination of our efforts with the performance that will make the Death Star operational!"

Wylan's saliva dried in his throat. _The Death Star_. That was what it was called.

"Our first target is a planet that appears altruistic, appears to be peaceful, appears to be a home of _art_ and _wisdom_ , _beauty_ and _culture_ ," there was something sneering in the officer's words as he listed the features, "but whose leaders are actually traitors to our glorious Empire! Who have aided the loathsome Rebellion, and been complicit in the deaths of thousands of sentients across the galaxy!

"Our first target," Retvenko finished, a savage glee in his voice, "is Alderaan."

There were gasps of surprise around the room, but Jesper's was the only one of horror. Wylan forced himself to keep his face blank.

It didn't come naturally to him, but he'd gotten into trouble for _not_ doing it as a child that he'd _made_ it come naturally to him.

"Jesper," Wylan said under his breath, "contact Kaz. Tell him to create a distraction in some distant wing of the facility. We need to delay this somehow, come up with a way of stopping it." A viewscreen began to roll down from the ceiling, obscuring the view out the window. _"Now."_

* * *

Inej continued her trek across the rooftops, but she'd long given up the chase of that shuttle. It seemed pointless - it was going to land at one of the landing pads anyway, and something a lot more. . . _irregular_. . . was happening in the wing of the building up ahead.

A room jutted out from the main body of the facility; light shone out into the darkened sky from the window that wrapped halfway around it. Inej crept onto the roof of the room carefully - it was subtly sloped towards the basin below - and peered over the edge at the congregation of people standing on a platform down there.

_Here_. This was where everything was happening.

She swept her gaze down the wall she was meant to scale down. Several metres of it was smooth transparisteel due to the window, and she doubted she could scale that with her bare hands. She'd need to use her grappling hook. Which was fine, except she needed to avoid being caught. And scaling the side of a window, in full view of a room full of people, didn't seem like the way to do that.

She frowned as she considered her options - she could backtrack and scale the duracrete where the window ended, but the way the building curved round meant that if she did so she'd _still_ be visible from the window. But she couldn't just _climb_ and hope she got lucky. . .

She stiffened, back straight.

They were rolling down a viewscreen in the room. Covering a large chunk of the window. If she could shimmy down with her grappling hook while the screen was up, then she might be able to get past with no one noticing her. . .

She sprang into action, tugging the collapsed hook out of the pouch at her waist and unfolding it into shape. It lodged nicely into duracrete and Inej unwound the cord quickly, tossing it over the side and watching the end fall into the flashing rain. It landed, pooling at the bottom on a small shelf just below the platform the congregation stood on, but her descent would be blocked from sight by a stack of crates and the driving rain.

She hoped.

She crouched down, gripped the deceptively thin cord in her left hand, then placed her right hand underneath it. Her foot teetered on the edge of the roof, then it tilted and was pressed against the wall, and then the only thing keeping her from falling into the darkness was her firm grip.

She moved her left foot to below her right against the wall, then again, until she was eyelevel with the roof. And thus she began her descent.

* * *

When Kaz's comm pinged with an alert from Jesper, he jumped out of his seat.

Not that he would ever admit to it.

He scowled at his own jumpiness - being this tense over his _companions_ was _not_ something he was accustomed to, and he _didn't like it_ \- but marched over to pick up the comlink. It had to be Jesper who'd sent it; only two people knew his comm frequency, and while the odds of Inej contacting him _had_ significantly increased in the past week or so, considering where she was right now, the odds of it being her weren't great.

So he didn't bother to conceal his distaste - it wasn't like there was anyone else on the ship to see it, anyway - as he stalked over, but the scowl faded when he read Jesper's terse and to-the-point message.

_We need a distraction. Important._

Kaz scoffed for a moment, wondering what these crazy Rebels he'd thrown his lot in with had done now, before the implications of that statement hit him.

Jesper and Inej were in there.

They could be in danger.

Almost without his permission, his head swivelled to look at the smuggling compartments he was meant to be hiding in.

Hadn't Nina or someone mentioned something about thermal detonators?

* * *

Inej was in peak physical condition, and made sure she did exercises like this regularly to keep up her endurance. Nevertheless, her hands shook and her shoulders burned as she shimmied down the cable.

It got worse when she came level with the room and the window, because now the rough, gripping surface she'd done well on was gone, replaced with a rain-slick, smooth transparisteel.

She gritted her teeth and kept going, excruciatingly careful. Even if the limited sunlight getting through Eadu's cloud cover was inadequate, the light shining from either side of the viewscreen was enough to see by. She felt her palms grow sweaty with strain; the cord slipped in her grasp and she jerked to a sudden stop when she tightened her grip reflexively. She took a deep breath, and moved her right foot downwards-

Only for a stray wind to collide with her side, shoving her off balance. She couldn't entirely contain her cry as her foot slipped and her shoulder rammed into the transparisteel, her fingers clutching at the cord for dear life-

The breath expelled from her body, she sucked in air, then blew it out again. Grunting when she shifted on her bruised shoulder, she rolled so her stomach was against the transparisteel again, the cord taut under her hands.

Then, praying that no one had heard her cry, she continued her descent.

* * *

Jesper nodded at Wylan after he sent the message. Wylan, face stiff, gave an almost imperceptible smile. It soon disappeared; the General wasn't finished speaking yet.

"That Alderaan has for so long kept up its facade of innocence, of _morality_ , is an offence," he went. "And soon, the galaxy will know what it means to oppose the righteous Empire! If they will not obey us through love, as they should, they will obey us through fear. With the unveiling of this superweapon you have all helped to build, no star system will dare oppose the Empire now-"

There was a thump, and a quiet cry.

The excited murmuring in the room immediately hushed as the patrons glanced at each other, wide-eyed. _What was that?_ he could practically hear them thinking. Their sudden fear was as tangible as the chairs they sat on. Jesper's mind whirred.

That cry had sounded a lot like Inej.

And if they launched a search for the intruder, if they found her, found them _all_ -

Jesper didn't think. He just stomped his foot on the ground, slapping his knee, and cried, "Hear, hear!"

Everyone turned to look at him; Jesper felt nauseous.

Even pretending to agree with the Imperial turned his stomach, but it had done the trick. The noise of his foot against the floor was similar enough to the thump from earlier and the autocrats, their curiosity assuaged, turned back to the General, who glared at Jesper for interrupting him, but launched back into his speech.

Wylan nudged his foot. "Quick thinking."

Jesper bit his lip to keep from smiling. "Smuggler, remember?"

* * *

The feeling of solid ground under her feet was possibly the best thing Inej had ever felt when she finally landed, heart hammering in her throat. She yanked at the cable, tugging it this way and that, expecting it to come tumbling down as it usually did. It didn't budge.

A cold feeling sank in Inej's gut. If she couldn't get her grappling hook down, then for one thing she wouldn't have it with her later, and would have to pick up another at some point. But the other point was that if she couldn't remove it, then the hook and cord would remain there, hanging in plain sight for whenever the viewscreen rolled back up and the people in the room went back to their business.

But there was nothing for it.

She clutched the cord for one more indecisive second, then let go to keep moving.

The path she was on ran just below the platform the people were congregated on. Along the edge of the platform ran stacks of crates, tall enough that if she crouched they would conceal her completely. There was a small area for her to perch behind them, so she clambered up and did so, pulling out her blaster and peering round the side.

The congregation was smaller than she'd originally thought: about half a dozen human men in the uniforms of Imperial scientists standing facing a single officer in white. She crept closer to hear what was being said, but half of the man's words were stolen away by the wind.

She was just in the midst of leaning in closer when everyone stopped muttering to themselves and stood to attention, the man's in white's face turning the same colour as his uniform.

From her angle, Inej couldn't see who was approaching, but the air suddenly seemed colder and the footsteps that approaching were. . . Well _, c_ _lanking_ wasn't quite the right word; the noise the armour against armour made was more like a _crashing_ , a fatal speeder collision, the death toll of a bell, the breaking of stormy seas against the prow of a boat.

Inej thought she might know who that was, but she prayed she was wrong.

_Please, let me be wrong._

No such luck.

"Director," a smooth, near-melodic voice greeted, somewhat mockingly. Inej squeezed her eyes shut and threw up those mental shields Nina had so painstakingly taught her to construct. Because although Inej had - thankfully - never heard that voice in person, it was familiar enough from holoclips in debriefings, even without the faintest electric tinge to it, and there was no mistaking who it belonged to.

_So_ that _was who was on that shuttle._

Inej opened her eyes again and squinted. From her vantage point, she could just see a glint of silver armour, curved like the hard shell of some ostentatious yobcrab.

"Lady Koroleva," the director said after a moment, confirming Inej's suspicions like a punch to the gut. Lady Koroleva, also known as Darth Koroleva, the Sith Lord responsible for the Jedi Purges - the reason that Nina was the last of her kind. Why she was called a Sith _Lord_ , Inej didn't know, but what she did know was this:

Lady Koroleva was the right hand of Aleksander Morozova himself; the Emperor's fist; slavishly devoted to keeping the galaxy under his reign. She was a one-woman _army._ When Rebels went up against her, they died.

Even Nina's Jedi Master hadn't stood a chance.

Inej willed herself not to move, not to breathe, not to _think_. Not while she was so close.

"My lady," the director was saying, "to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"

Despite herself, Inej had to smile at his obsequiousness; everyone knew that the one thing Koroleva despised was flattery.

Evidently the director's comrade knew that too, a she leaned in to murmur, "Ivan. . ."

_Ivan_ waved her off, nerves quickening his hand motions. "It's fine. My lady?"

Koroleva said simple, "I came to investigate a tremor in the Force." Inej's heart skipped a beat - _Nina._ No. Oh no. "Feel no need to suspend your operation; you may fire when ready. I am simply here on my own terms." There was a pause, then a sinister, "I trust you find that adequate?"

She had a peculiar way of speaking, like she was trying to sound posh - for mockery or for authenticity, Inej didn't know - but it didn't come naturally to her.

"Of course, my lady."

Koroleva had already turned to leave, her footsteps rhythmic and easy to track by hearing alone. But they stopped shortly after - too close to Inej's hiding spot for her liking.

Then they continued, and she released the breath she hadn't even realised she was holding.

* * *

"And now," finished the General, "we shall finally give to traitors what traitors are due." To the other officers milling about the room, he declared, "Send the command to fire!"

All at once, the viewscreen lit up. It showed Alderaan, a blue and green orb suspended among clusters and clusters of stars. It looked deceptively peaceful.

And then, into the holo - no doubt being shot from a Star Destroyer or other Imperial ship - crept a moon.

_No_ , Wylan realised, ice spreading in his chest. _That's no moon._

_That's a space station_.

Spherical, grey, with was looked like a large crater on what side; it certainly looked like a moon. But the armoured defences? The smoothness of the crater, which now appeared to be more like a focusing dish? The trench running round its equator?

_It's too big to be a space station_ , Wylan couldn't help but think, even as he knew that it wasn't. That this - _this_ \- was the planet-killer they'd been looking for.

It was certainly worthy of the name.

Because before Wylan's aghast stare, green light coalesced in the focusing dish, and shot out from the Death Star with a single minded intensity that struck the peaceful planet of Alderaan like someone had taken a hammer to a glass bauble. The planet exploded, chunks of it littering the air in clashes of fire and ash and brimstone and the blood of a civilisation screaming in agony-

Although he knew they were too far away to feel any of the immediate gravitational ramifications of what they'd just witnessed - the _destruction_ of a _planet_ \- Wylan imagined he felt something shift. Like the galaxy had tilted in its spin, and now everything was thrown off course.

The Empire wasn't just evil. Not anymore.

It was an _abomination_.

* * *

Joost had often been told by his friends and family that, despite having consumed disproportionate amounts of poetry growing up in solitude as a child, his attempts at flirting were, to be quite frank, bantha fodder. And that regrettable character trait was once again rearing its ugly head right now; his tongue was tied in knows and his hands were flapping wildly in over-dramatic gestures, all in a vain attempt to get Anya to like him.

He'd tried complimenting her eyes, but all of the meaningful natural imagery in fiction had to do with the colours blue - blue sands, blue skies, blue seas - and Anya's eyes were brown.

A beautiful, earthy brown, but he couldn't say that her eyes looked like mud, could he?

Fortunately, she seemed to find his awkwardness more amusing than repulsive, but it was humiliating all the same. He took a stab at preserving his dignity with a rambling, "Your skin is like moonlight," to which she only raised an eyebrow.

"We're on Alderaan, Joost," she pointed out. "Not only am I used to much better similes, what with living on a multi-cultural hub, but _we don't have any moons_."

"Wait, _what_?" he asked, taking a step back. They were having an ordinary conversation in the street for once, rather than at the house where they both worked, so he was perfectly able to tilt his head up and point to the grey, spherical object hanging in the sky. "Then what's that?"

"It's funny really," Anya was still saying, "how we have an entire lullaby describing a 'mirror-bright moon' when we don't actually have- _what the kriff is that?_ " She was openly gaping at the satellite in orbit around the planet; her confusion only befuddled Joost more.

"You haven't noticed that? It's been there since I got here a few days ago," he said, feeling peculiarly out of his depth at her wide eyes and open mouth. "I figured it was a moon."

She shook her head, and shifted her eyes back to the sky. "It's never been there before. Oh," she said, head tilting to the side. Joost glanced up again. There seemed to be a sort of green light gathering next to it, sparkling through the haze of the atmosphere. "Look at it."

"It's. . . beautiful," he agreed, a soft smile wreathing his lips as he watched the way it hung there, glittering like a bauble draped in coloured lights.

Then the green light got closer. . . and closer. . . and closer. . . and closer and closer and closer-

"Oh, Shiraya's word," Anya breathed, something akin to terror stretching her voice thin. The saying was a Nubian one, he knew, and he opened his mouth to ask if she'd ever been to Naboo but suddenly it didn't matter because that green light was entering the atmosphere and he automatically stepped between Anya and that terrifying light but in the end it didn't matter.

In the end, they both died anyway.


	7. Episode VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this earlier, but I imagine Koroleva's armour as looking exactly like Phasma's from The Force Awakens. Also, after a comment in a review I can't help but think of her voice as sounding just like Asajj Ventress from The Clone Wars.

A scream ripped from Nina's throat, and Matthias was halfway towards scolding her for bringing potential enemies down on them before he realised what was happening.

She'd collapsed to the ground, shaking, her face white as a sheet. He crouched in front of her, but she didn't seem to see him; her gaze was fixed on a point over his shoulder, far, far away. Her lips trembled as she pressed them together tightly. Tears shone in her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, somewhat bewildered.

She took a shuddering breath, then unwound her hands from around her knees. "A- a great disturbance in the Force," she said breathlessly, her tears now escaping and sliding down her cheeks. "Like millions - maybe _billions_ \- of voices suddenly cried out in terror." She met his eye then, and he felt the impact of her next words like a punch to the gut: this was where everything changed. This was where the game they were playing became real. "They were suddenly silenced."

"Then it's happened," Kuwei said, his voice hoarse. Matthias started, before looking up at the boy - he was so quiet he'd almost forgotten he was there. "The weapon's been fired. A planet has been destroyed."

Kuwei looked pale and shaky himself, if not to the degree that Nina was. Matthias knew next to nothing about Force-sensitivity, but he wondered if the boy had sensed the cataclysm himself, to some extent.

"Then it's too late," Nina said distantly. "We failed. Billions of people are dead, because we _failed_."

"It's not too late," Matthias countered automatically, scrambling for some semblance of normalcy. Nina was such a vibrant personality - seeing her so broken was just. . . _wrong_.

"Seems pretty late to me." Kuwei's voice was old, bitter beyond his years, carrying a brittle edge that had begun to crumble.

Matthias shook his head, more in denial than rational thought. "No. There has to be a way to destroy that- that planet-killer-"

"The Death Star," Kuwei supplied helpfully.

"-the Death Star, right. There has to be a way to destroy it. _Nothing_ is infallible. There will be a way to destroy it, and we have to find it. We have to find it, and use it, before the Death Star can unleash this kind of hell ever again. You," he turned to Kuwei, "you said your father worked on it, right? Do you know of any weaknesses?"

The boy froze, then said hesitantly, "I know of one." At Matthias's eager silence, he continued, "My father knows more about it than I do. We have to find him, and get him out, so he can tell your Rebellion everything he knows. I know he laid a trap in the station - that Death Star was _designed_ to be blown up. By him."

"Great!" Matthias said, something in his chest collapsing in relief. "So we'll find Bo Yul-Bayur, fly ourselves out of here, and then-" He froze. "Nina?"

Nina's head was cocked in the direction they'd come, her face pinched into a frown. She pushed herself off the wall, into a standing position, and slid her hand down to her lightsaber. "You two go on," she murmured. "I'll catch up."

_"What?"_ Matthias asked. "What are you _doing_? We need to-"

_"Go."_ There was no arguing with that voice. "Trust me, Matthias." It was the first time she'd ever used his first name, rather than his last. "Go. I'll be there soon."

He exchanged a glance with Kuwei, but capitulated. "Alright. . ."

He forced himself not to look back as they turned the next corner. Even when he heard the hum of a lightsaber being ignited, he kept his eyes straight ahead.

* * *

The footsteps approaching ground along Nina's nerves, tensing her back until she wanted hunch over and curl up into a ball, never to emerge again. Each inexorable _thump_ brought back memories that ought to remain forgotten, memories that tore at her resolve.

_Thump._

Zoya teaching her how to hold her first practice saber, bowing to her opponent, then swinging it in her hands to test out the balance and nearly chopping her own arm off with how badly she misjudged the movement.

_Thump._

The feeling of rough grass tickling her face and knees as she crouched in the fields, desperately waiting for the clone troopers to move on in their search so she and her master could escape, as so many Jedi hadn't.

_Thump._

The stifling interior of a smuggler's cargo hold as she and Zoya, stowaways, fled the Core to the lawless Outer Rim.

_Thump_.

The ruthless hum of a voice through a vocoder, the clash of saber on saber, and the small gasp Zoya had made as the crimson blade tore through her like flimsi.

_Thump._

The image before her right now: a woman in silver armour, a bloody lightsaber in her right hand, malice spilling into the Force wherever she walked.

Nina ran through everything she'd ever learned about Darth Koroleva in her head:

Armour was shot through with cortosis - lightsabers couldn't cut through it.

She'd appeared at the end of the Clone Wars - no one knew where she'd been before that.

Orchestrated the Jedi Purges along with her master, Emperor Morozova - been given credit for them the moment she appeared.

And finally: she'd never, ever, shown her face in public.

Nina unhooked her own lightsaber and lit it. The pink colour of the blade was too close to Koroleva's red for her liking, but this lightsaber was _hers_. She'd built it herself from scratch. She would accept it as it was.

"You shouldn't have come here," and there it was, the mechanical not-quite-a-purr that had haunted Nina's dreams for years, " _Jedi_."

Nina lifted her chin. "I don't think you have any jurisdiction over where I may or may not go, murderer."

A sound came out of the vocoder that might have been a snort; Nina couldn't really tell. But what Koroleva said was, "You seem to be extremely hateful for a Jedi."

There was mockery in the words, and perhaps that was what made Nina snap.

"You killed my master!" she cried, the words harsh and loud over the hum of their sabers. "Why wouldn't I hate you?"

"I've killed a great many Jedi Masters. You'll have to be more specific." And then she was sneering. Nina ground her teeth into oblivion.

"I'm sure you remember mine. Zoya Nazyalensky? Ring a bell?" Nina's grip on her lightsaber tightened, even as she shifted into an offensive position.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be baiting Koroleva like this - she should be running in the opposite direction. She shouldn't be shouting about all the nightmares that kept her up at night. Not to the physical manifestation of one.

But the name seemed to mean something to Koroleva. Her back stiffened, and she breathed, "So you're _Zoya's_."

The coldness in the room increased tenfold. Nina felt the rage and hatred in her opponent swell and, surprisingly enough, she felt her own swell to meet it.

That, more than anything, terrified her the most.

But fear leads to anger and anger leads to hate, so there was really no escaping this vicious cycle.

"You saw me kill her," Koroleva said aloud. There was something akin to an epiphany in her voice, and Nina's blood boiled at it. "You were nearby when I struck her down - you must have been the one to steal her lightsaber before I could claim it - and yet you didn't interfere. You didn't lift a finger to help." Nina was trembling now; her fingers ached from the strain of gripping her lightsaber so tightly. Koroleva made a sound similar to a bitter laugh. Her words were almost accusatory. "For all her faults, Zoya deserved more loyalty than that."

Nina charged.

Nina, for all her faults with meditation and just her inability to grasp the Jedi concept of "calm", was a pretty good duellist. She was skilled with a lightsaber, and had overpowered more than one trained wielder in her life - not to mention untrained ones.

But Darth Koroleva was something else entirely. All she had to do was sweep her lightsaber and theirs clashed, sparks jumping against the stark whiteness of the corridor. Nina skidded back, untouched, but she glared at the Sith Lord, the crash of the lightsabers against each other still ringing in her ears.

"You're so. . . _angry_ ," Koroleva observed softly - almost _gently_. Bemusedly. "You would make a marvellous Sith. If you were to let me train you, give you a second chance-"

_"Never."_ The word was part scream, part hiss, and part. . . Nina didn't know, but it left her throat raw and her lungs gasping for air. She slashed her lightsaber round in an arc, but it just bounced harmlessly off her opponent's armour.

_Cortosis. Resistant. Right._

"You could be great," Koroleva continued. Nina didn't know how or why, but she got the sense that the woman's eyes were narrowed behind her helmet. "You could leave behind your dreary existence, and be something _more_. As we did."

Nina scoffed. "Who do you think-"

"You could stop being the one everyone turns to as their _last hope_ ," Koroleva went on smoothly. "You could be part of a group again, a team. You wouldn't have to work on your own, do things alone, because no one else can do what you do."

Nina's heart thudded in her chest. She couldn't breathe - she couldn't _think_. But not because she hated this- this monster in front of her, this _facsimile_ of everything she'd ever hoped and dreamed of.

But because she _wanted_ what she was talking about.

She wanted to be around others like her again. She wanted to work in a team where her talents weren't seen as special, weren't seen as the trump card to be played at the last minute. She wanted to not be crushed under the weight of expectations anymore.

"You could not be alone."

But what that meant was that she wanted to be back in the Jedi Temple with all the other younglings. It did not mean she wanted to join the person who was the reason that wasn't possible.

Nina took a step back, and held up her lightsaber ready to attack. "I don't want any of that," she lied.

Koroleva's posture stiffened as she drew herself up to her full height. She wasn't particularly tall or imposing, Nina noted, yet she commanded presence anyway. "So be it, then."

Nina watched the crimson arc as it bore down on her as she would watch a mildly interesting show. She knew distantly that she was about to die, and for some reason that didn't stir her into action. So she just watched, as mesmerised as a little girl seeing a "laser sword" for the very first time.

And then the explosions went off.

Thermal detonators, some distant part of her brain registered, but the rest of her had already regained her senses and she was scrambling to get out of there, backing away from the section of the corridor that had become a wreckage. Koroleva lay on her side in the centre of it.

For a moment, Nina thought - _hoped_ \- she was dead. But no; her sickly patch of darkness was still vibrant in the Force and she was stirring even before her wide eyes, metal clad limbs clanking as they shifted, the movements slow. Nina made to take a step away, to flee, because Force knew she needed to get out of there, but-

Koroleva's helmet had been knocked off in the explosion. And as she looked up to meet Nina's eye, she knew her.

She'd only seen a few holos of her before, but she knew those delicate lips, knew the unassuming eyes, the weak chin, sharp nose. Erase a few wrinkles and dye her hair brown and Koroleva could've stepped right out of one of Zoya's old holograms.

_Oh, Force. . ._

Nina was going to vomit.

_"Don't_ -" Koroleva - but that wasn't her name, was it? - began, her voice curling possessively round the words, her hand reaching out, but the Sith Lord was still dazed. She was still trapped under chunks of fallen ceiling, and her grip on the Force was tenuous at best.

Nina turned and ran

* * *

 

Jesper was still struggling to come to terms with what he'd just witnessed when the viewscreen began to roll up again. The applause around him was deafening, and half-heartedly, distantly, he clapped with them - he had a role to play after all. But everything was very quiet in his head.

He found himself staring at the viewscreen as it moved; he needed something to focus on, something that was _steady_ , or even more of his world would collapse around him.

The moving screen made him nauseous too, so he focused on the transparisteel window behind it. It was dark with rain but there was a shadow flickering just beyond it, it looked almost like- _oh stars please no is that_ -

"What's that?" An alarmed shout broke through the jubilant cheering. Everyone turned to look. Now the viewscreen was gone, the item was clear: a cord.

A tether.

A climbing coil.

In fact, it was almost certainly the sort that Jesper had seen in Inej's inventory in the past few days, which meant she'd been nearby, so-

_O_ _h, no_ -

He could practically see the gears in the Imperials' heads turning: someone had been climbing down there without their knowledge. Someone who wanted to remain clandestine, hidden. And that may have been inconsequential at any other time, but considering the importance of what they'd just witnessed. . .

"Rebels!" It was a murmured word, but more and more people picked up on it and repeated it, until Jesper was in a whispering chamber of _Rebels_. A louder shout went up: "They're here! They're attacking the facility!"

Everyone froze. No one dared to so much as _blink_.

Then, one person's panic outweighed their fear. They bolted for the door and the room followed, until there was a writhing mass of people trying to squeeze themselves out of one door, and this really wasn't going to end well-

The Imperial from earlier - Retvenko - stood at the front again. "That is _enough_!" he shouted. "Act _civilised_! It must simply be a loose cable or the likes. I can assure you, ladies and gentlemen," he said, trying for a winning smile, "there is no Rebel attack being held on this facili-"

There was a _boom_ in the background. The walls and floor shook slightly.

_Of all the times to stage a distraction, Kaz,_ Jesper thought, _now is not the best._

He and Wylan exchanged a single glance, then immediately did what everyone else did at that moment: dived for the door

* * *

 

Inej was just beginning to steady her breathing again after Koroleva left when the viewscreen she'd observed earlier erupted into light. Squinting, she attempted to see round her vantage point of behind the crates, but she couldn't make out much more than a green and blue blur. There were gasps of horror from the assembled scientists when the screen was littered with embers of red and orange, but she still couldn't work out what was going on.

Then came the explosions.

The ground trembled and the scientists screamed; it was only experience that had Inej clamping her mouth shut before one escaped her too. The Imperial who'd spoken to Koroleva - Ivan - contorted his face in worry, and lifted his wrist to consult his comlink. After a moment of consultation, he nodded smartly and shut it down.

"It's a Rebel attack," he muttered to his assistant. "The meeting's turned into a stampede."

"Our orders?"

"Kill the scientists." Ivan didn't look at the scientists in question as he said that; instead he scanned the area, scrutinised all the nooks and crannies he could see that might be housing rebel scum. "Before the Rebels get ahold of them."

Inej's breathing hitched in her throat, but the woman was unfazed. She barked a command to the stormtroopers nearby and they all lifted their blasters.

"Ready, aim," she counted down, " _fire-_ "

" _Wait!_ " Inej screamed into the ensuing blasterfire, bursting from her hiding place and taking the element of surprise as an opportunity to shoot three of the six troopers . The other three followed in quick succession, but, Inej noted with a plummeting stomach, the bodies of the scientists had already slumped to the ground.

Ivan's assistant pulled her blaster on her; Inej ducked the shot. It seared through the fabric at her left shoulder, but she was right-handed anyway and kept moving, kept going, wrenched the blaster from the woman's hands and backhanding her across the face. A well-placed kick, and then she was toppling backwards, off the platform, down into the basin they were suspended over. . .

Inej pulled the Imperial's blaster on Ivan, clutching her own with her injured left arm.

"What-" he began, but never finished. The shot to his chest rather prevented that from happening.

Inej gritted her teeth at the sound his body made when it hit the deck, but she was already searching through the fallen scientists, sharp eyes alert even through the rain. There was one who looked familiar - she used both hands, grimacing when she stressed her injury, to roll him over and study his face. It was definitely Bo Yul-Bayur.

And he was definitely dead.

For as moment as she knelt, Inej felt failure crash over her. If Yul-Bayur was dead, then they had no sources on what the weapon was _or_ how to destroy it, and it could be unleashed on the galaxy like the Emperor's vengeful God of War, all because she'd _failed._ . .

Then she was back to practicality.

She'd injured her shoulder, but it was still mostly usable. The Imperials knew they were here; the base would be on lockdown; it would be harder to get out - both out of the facility, and out into hyperspace. She couldn't do anything about getting Wylan and Jesper back to the ship, nor could she do anything but hope that the others were still there - hadn't gotten caught.

The only thing she _could_ do was get back to the ship herself.

So she would.

Inej dumped the Imperial's blaster - it made her feel dirty, holding it - and made her way off the platform.

* * *

 

Nina rounded a corner and, in her desperation to put as much distance between herself and Koroleva as possible, promptly crashed into Matthias.

"Nina!" His hands shot out to steady her as she stumbled. "What happened-"

"No time to explain!" she shouted over her shoulder as she bolted past him. Kuwei caught on faster than Matthias and quickly followed; the bodyguard swore under his breath, giving chase.

"Where are we going?" he demanded without missing a step, miraculously not out of breath. Nina supposed you had to be fit and healthy to be hired as a bodyguard for an Imperial lord's son.

"Back to the ship," she replied in pants, veering left round the next corner. When they reached a door Nina spent all of one moment looking at it before she blasted it open with the Force. "The explosions. . .will have set. . .Imperials on our tails. They know we're here. Need to get off-planet quickly."

In her peripheral vision, she saw him open his mouth to argue, but she dived into the pounding rain before she heard his splutter.

" _Nina_! Wait!"

She ignored the shout and bent over almost double as she ran blindly into the darkness, wet hair swinging round to cling to her face. Sometime later - it could have been ten seconds or ten hours, for all Nina knew - the misshapen silhouette of the _Barrel_ bulged from the gloom and she sprinted for it, splashing footsteps behind her evidence that the others were following.

When she staggered onto the ship, Kaz pulled a blaster on her.

She just looked him up and down, spread her arms to make the lightsaber apparent and cocked her eyebrow.

Kaz lowered the blaster with a grunt. "Took you long along." He glanced past her to Matthias - to Kuwei. "Who're you?"

"A friend," Nina said breathlessly, because she did _not_ like the look Kaz was giving him. I was like he was debating his weak spots, vulnerabilities, how best to knock him out and keep him unconscious in the brig.

Kaz scoffed. "Not mine." But he looked away nevertheless. "Where's Inej?"

Nina shook her head. "We haven't seen her."

Kaz's posture stiffened, his lips pursing. "Jesper?"

_"What the actual kriff, Kaz."_

"I assume that's him," Nina said lightly, turning to watch the flyboy stagger into the ship with the merchling on his tail. Matthias made an immediate beeline for Wylan, and started - though he would deny it, Nina was sure - fussing.

Kaz raised his brows at his partner. "You asked for a distraction."

_"I didn't ask for you to blow up a wing of the facility!"_

"That was _you_?" Nina asked at the same time as someone else - glancing round, she saw that Inej had just climbed onto the ship, equally disgruntled.

Kaz shrugged, but Nina didn't miss how he relaxed at seeing Inej alive and well. "Jesper asked for a distraction. He got one." His dark eyes scanned Inej again, and his tone changed. "You're hurt."

She was, Nina realised. She was holding her left shoulder gingerly, and bright blood bloomed from what looked like a nasty blaster wound.

"It's nothing," her friend said, and sure, it didn't _look_ fatal, but that didn't mean Nina was going to- "We need to fly this ship out of here before they thicken the blockade."

"You're right." Jesper made for the cockpit.

Nina was a little more frightened. "They've already set up a _blockade_?" Inej nodded. "Can we-"

"Uhhh, guys," Jesper called through the open door. "Scanners detect a massive object emerging from hyperspace nearby," they all exchanged bewildered looks at the fear in his voice, "and it looks to be about the size of a moon."

Wylan's face drained of colour.

"Fly us out of here. Now."

"Aye aye, merchling."

By the time Nina realised that Inej had just cracked a _joke_ , she was already in the cockpit.


	8. Episode VIII

"You should probably get that shoulder looked at," Jesper commented helpfully as they feverishly flicked switches and toggles, the ship lurching beneath them.

"Sure. I'll worry about it once we're not busy staying alive."

Jesper frowned. "You're in a. . . jagged. . . mood."

"I just watched several men get shot in front of me, and shot the shooters in a futile attempt to stop it. Apologies I'm not feeling like my usual happy-go-lucky self."

"You're never happy-go-lucky," was all Jesper said. Silence fell in the cockpit as they busied themselves with their tasks, not looking at each other.

In fact, it was only broken by Inej's profuse swearing at the site of the long line of side-to-side Star Destroyers hovering just beyond the atmosphere. This, incidentally, also broke the not-looking-at-each-other streak, since Jesper shot her a shocked glance. Inej wasn't the sort you'd expect to say such foul things, but he supposed she _had_ been Kaz's partner once upon a time. It made sense that she'd know more than a few offensive Huttese expressions.

"What's our game plan?" he asked, because while he was the better pilot, she _was_ technically the leader on this mission - not to mention she had a _lot_ more experience evading Imperials than he did.

"Fly casual," she said through gritted teeth as they broke through the atmosphere. Whether the tension was from their current situation or her previous one, Jesper didn't know. "If we continue to masquerade as here on Van Eck's behalf, then they might just think we're a civilian ship and let us through-"

_"Unidentified shuttle, please return to Eadu. This is the Imperial Star Destroyer_ Vigilance _commanding you to return to the surface-"_

"Great. They're hailing us."

"So much for that plan." Inej sounded so. . . _dejected_. . . in that moment that Jesper wanted to give her a hug. "Hyperspace coordinates?"

"Still being plotted. It'll take a few more minutes at least."

"We don't _have_ a few more minutes." Inej blew her breath out through her teeth. "We can't return to Eadu. They'll figure out our ruse and slaughter us all."

"Someone's cheerful today," he muttered to himself, before he jerked his head up and his hands began to fly over the controls. "I have an idea."

"What are you-" She cut herself off as the ship shot forward, her own breath searing the back of her throat. "- _doing_?"

"Would you be upset if I said _'improvising'_?" He tried for a grin, and was rewarded by Inej huffing a reluctant laugh. The hands that were gripping the console were still white with strain, but at least she was smiling.

"This is great. I get used to dealing with Nina and now there's two of you," she quipped. Jesper had to chuckle. "And what _are_ you doing?" The question came just as one of the Star Destroyers loomed up ahead. He jerked the controls so hard the _Barrel_ barely skimmed the surface. "Jesper!"

"I know what I'm doing."

"They're firing up their surface cannons!"

"Counting on it."

_"Unidentified shuttle, please divert from your flight path or we will be forced to fire on you. I repeat, unidentified shuttle, please-"_ A voice interrupted in the background: _"Just blast them already!"_

The comm transmission clicked off.

* * *

"Well," Inej said, mirth gone. There was a queasy feeling in her stomach. They were all going to die, simple as that. "This is fun."

"Glad you think so," Jesper murmured back, then shouted, "Kaz! Nina! Merchling! Get on the cannons and aim for those towers!"

Inej sat back with her arms crossed; she didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't seem to need her to pilot anyway. "So we're taking out the surface cannons on one of the Destroyers to stop them shooting at us. So what? There are at least five other ships up here with fully functional weaponry able to take a shot."

"Not," panted her companion, "if we're right on top of one of their own."

"Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking-"

He dived down to the surface of the Destroyer they were flying at.

The rattle of blasterfire sounded from below, and Nina whooped as a tower to their left exploded into sparks. There was a similar rattle to their right but Kaz was more reserved - he didn't cheer at his kill.

"Coordinates?" Jesper's voice was strained.

Inej glanced at the navicomputer. "Thirty seconds."

A pained grunt was the only reply she received as he took them in a spin to duck away from the barrel of another tower and the surface gun mounted on it. Nina took that one down too.

"Twenty seconds." Inej glanced into the bridge of the Star Destroyer as they flew over the viewport. For a moment, she could see through it - could watch the gaping Imperial officers as they soared by. "They'll dispatch TIE fighters soon."

"Not before we jump to hyperspace. They won't have time." There was a grim certainty to Jesper's voice. He barely glanced at the console as his hands darted across it; every inch of his being was riveted to the viewport and beyond.

There was a grinding, then a shout of dismay from Nina. "The cannon's stuck in forward position; I can't move it. And there's a tower firing up to blast us."

Inej saw Jesper's throat bob; his hair was clinging to his forehead with sweat. "Hold on," he replied. "Inej, disengage the front repulsors."

For an instant all she could do was gape. "Have you gone mad-"

_"Do it!"_

She did it. She choked on her own breath as the back repulsors shoved them forwards, then the nose was dipping towards the surface of the Destroyer and the back end was lifting and then they were vertical and Inej could see the blast marks and dents on the surface of the Destroyer in excruciating detail. . .

. . .and Nina, looking out of the underbelly of the ship, had a clean, straight shot at the tower targeting them. It exploded with more of a whimper than a bang.

"Coordinates calculated," Inej said. Jesper nodded grimly, then he yanked the ship up over the main bulk of the Destroyer, and for an instant they were facing the planet Eadu again.

For an instant, Inej had the perfect view of a moon-sized battle station peering at her from over the curve of the cerulean atmosphere.

For an instant, she saw the green turbolaser streak to hit the surface of Eadu, and the billow of debris that reached halfway to space because of it.

Her eyes bulged out of her head; she choked on her own heart-

Then the stars turned to a tunnel of streaks and the ruined planet was left far behind.

* * *

" _What_ ," Nina heard Inej shout, storming out of the cockpit, "the _kriff_ was that."

Matthias looked somewhere between petulant and scandalised at her choice of language, but everyone else wore looks of confusion - except Wylan and Kuwei. Kuwei's bronze face had been leeched of colour as he bit his lip; Wylan's mouth was set in a grim line as he nodded.

" _That_ , Captain," Jesper proclaimed loudly as he strode in after her, "was the superweapon this entire trip is about."

Inej's mouth fell open. Nina had genuinely never seen her friend look so terrified. "That- that _thing_ -"

"That's what we're up against, yes."

Inej's mouth formed words, but none of them were voiced. Instead, all of her heavy breathing and valiant attempts at speech culminated in a anticlimactic, "Oh."

Kuwei spoke up. "The weapon - it was used?"

Both Inej and Jesper jerked their heads towards the newcomer. Both "Yes," and "Who are you?" came at the same time.

Kuwei lifted his chin slightly, but everyone could see that it was trembling.

Nina decided to step in. "This is Kuwei Yul-Bo, Bo Yul-Bayur's son," she explained. "I said we'd get him out."

Wylan turned on Kuwei. "Your father designed that thing?" There was something uncomfortably close to a hiss in his voice. It made Nina uncomfortable, hearing the seemingly innocent man - boy, really - with such venom in his voice. "Do you have any idea what it's done-"

"Quiet, lordling," Nina snapped. Yelling at Wylan was like kicking a wounded puppy, but a fierce protectiveness of Kuwei welled up in her chest. He was just a boy - he'd loved his father so much - he'd had so much faith in the Jedi when she stumbled through that window. . . "Unless I need to remind you that your own father had a pretty big part to play in the development of that _thing_ as well, Van Eck."

Wylan flinched. "I-"

"The Death Star just fired on Eadu," Jesper said flatly. "It wiped out half the surface of the planet. We barely escaped. And that was only an inkling of its destructive capabilities. Wylan and I saw it blow up-"

"Not now, Jesper," Inej said quietly. Nina was inclined to agree. She herself was clenching her fists so tightly it hurt, and Inej was holding herself up, rigid, all muscles wound with tension. Kuwei was shaking, leaning hard against the dejarik board. Wylan looked like he was about to collapse, too. Matthias was the only one sitting down, stoic and silent. Even Kaz looked ill.

The silence that fell was stifling.

Inej was the one to break the stillness. She moved, slowly but surely, her motions full of grace, over to Kuwei. She supported his elbow with one hand and guided him onto the bench next to Matthias. He slumped in the seat, and she sat down next to him.

"Your father was Bo Yul-Bayur?" she asked. Nina didn't miss the _"was"_.

Kuwei nodded mutely.

"Then I'm so sorry."

A bitter smile wreathed Kuwei's lips. "So I take it there was no chance he survived the Death Star blast?"

Inej shook her head. Her hair more out of her ponytail than in it, bounced around her face. "No," she said. "He didn't live to see his creation turned on him. One of the officers shot him and his team just after they witnessed something on a viewscreen. I don't know what it was-"

"The destruction of the planet Alderaan," Jesper, who would not be shushed, said.

Inej closed her eyes briefly, and although Nina had long sworn not to probe her friends' emotions, she thought she sensed a weight settling on the spy's soul. A weight far, far heavier than that of any of her previous missions.

She said to Kuwei, "I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

Then she walked out of the room.

Nina watched her go, something inside her aching in unison.

She jumped when, behind her, Kuwei said, "You're a Jedi."

"Yes," Nina tried at humour, forcing a smile onto her face, "we've established that."

Kuwei didn't blink. "I want to be trained as a Jedi."

Nina hid her shock with, "I _thought_ you were Force-sensitive."

Kuwei nodded. "My father was as well - he was too weak to be of any use to the Jedi Order, so he used his affinity with the Force to study kyber crystals." He lifted his chin. This time, it didn't shake. "But I'm strong enough. I can be trained."

Nina frowned at him. "Yes, you can be. But are you sure you want to be?"

"Maybe not as a Jedi," he admitted. "But. . . I want to be able to defend myself. I want to have those skills in my repertoire. The age of the Jedi is over, but their abilities aren't obsolete. I want to be able to take on Koroleva with a lightsaber if it comes down to it; I want to be able to jump long distances like you did." A pause, then: "I want to be able to stop anything like this from ever happening again."

Nina opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she walked over to where she'd dumped her satchel on top of the dejarik board.

When she drew out Zoya's lightsaber, her heart constricted in her chest. This was her Master's - no one else's.

But she didn't have any others spare.

Still facing away from Kuwei, she ignited the saber. The beam that shot out was blue - the blue of the planets Eadu's atmosphere, the blue of Alderaan's seas, the blue of Zoya's eyes. The blue of all that was lost.

She shut it off again just as quickly. When she turned to face Kuwei, she was ashamed to say that her eyelashes were damp.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him. "You can practice with this."

She was acutely aware of Matthias's gaze on her. Everyone else seemed to have looked away or found somewhere else to be. But Kuwei was the only person she looked at.

And as he took the lightsaber from her, she saw herself reflected in his eyes. To him, she looked ancient. Trustworthy. A lifeline to cling to.

Wise and strong and powerful.

She'd do her best. She'd do her best to teach him, but. . .

Nina wished she could believe in that lie herself.


	9. Episode IX

Inej loped into the bunkroom she shared with Nina and promptly collapsed facedown onto her bunk. She half expected to feel tears leak out of her eyes, staining the pillow with salt, but no; the Rebellion had wrung her dry. Her eyes remained tearless and clear.

She closed them, taking a deep breath. _I failed._

_Bo Yul-Bayur is dead, his son mourning him. Alderaan is gone, along with all of its inhabitants. The Death Star fired on Eadu and killed everyone else there._

_I could've stopped it._

_I failed._

She heard the door creak open behind her, and she voiced her thoughts without really thinking - she rarely kept secrets from Nina anyway. "It's pointless," she said, her voice muffed by the pillow. "If I couldn't stop Bo Yul-Bayur from getting killed, how am I supposed to stop that _thing_ from firing on another planet? What sort of intelligence officer am I if I can't even find out that a fragging _planet_ has been obliterated?"

"Never known you to lose hope, Inej," said a gravelly voice that was most definitely _not_ Nina. "Never known to you swear much, either."

Inej didn't bother extricating her face from the pillow, but she huffed a laugh. "Kaz."

"Indeed."

"I thought you were Nina."

"Well, I figured you didn't know it was me. I doubt I'd be your first choice of person to have a heart to heart with."

Inej sighed. "What do you want?" She wasn't in the mood for all this posturing.

The silence stretched into affinity. Kaz never answered the question.

Instead, he said, "Why are you so dejected? You're the most hopeful person I know." _Not that I know very many_ , went unspoken.

Inej closed her eyes again. Tears _did_ leak out this time - they dampened her face, hot and uncomfortable. "Hope led me to the Rebellion, and all of my victims - not to mention our friendship - paid for that. Now my hope has led the Empire to Eadu." Her voice broke as she said, "I don't think the galaxy can survive much more hope from me."

"It wasn't your fault, Inej." The words - which should've been robotic, monotone, _required_ \- were genuine. As genuine as she knew Kaz could get. "You can't blame yourself."

"Would the Death Star have fired on Eadu, wiping out all those innocent people, if I hadn't led this very attack force there?"

" _Yes_ ," Kaz said. His vehemence surprised her. "Because that was a show of power to all of their benefactors. That was them gathering everyone who knew about the project into the same place. That was them silencing anyone who could possibly live to tell the tale about their newest weapon." His hand came to rest on her back. It felt foreign, there, but oddly comforting. "But they failed. _We_ lived to tell the tale. _We_ can warn the Rebels about what's coming."

Inej rolled over and sat up at that. Her eyes were red, puffy, sore, but they caught Kaz's and she refused to looked away. " _We_ can?"

The expression on his face shut off. "You can."

The breath left her body, her chest caving in around her heart. She looked away and didn't watch him as he turned to stride out.

He paused at the door. "Get a bacta patch on your shoulder, Inej. It's bleeding everywhere."

She unconsciously touched her fingers to the wound; they came away red.

"And you?" she asked before he could escape. At his inquiring look, she elaborated, "Your limp. Have you healed that blaster wound yet?" A beat passed, then, "How did you even get distracted enough to get yourself shot in the first place?"

Kaz slipped out of the door without answering.

* * *

After the heartfelt discussion between Nina and Kuwei, Jesper found himself retreating to the relative safety of the cockpit. He _could_ hide in the bunkroom he shared with Kaz, he supposed, but his partner had marched in a few minutes before with an uncharacteristically pensive look on his face, which Jesper had taken as his cue to skedaddle.

At least the cockpit was _his_ territory, and his alone. Well, he guessed that anyone else _could_ walk right into it no problem, but it wasn't like they were going to. The only other person who flew the damn ship was Inej, and she'd seemed pretty pensive herself when she'd fled to the safety of her own cabin.

So Jesper counted himself as alone as he sat in the cockpit, staring at the swirling mass of hyperspace. For a long time he was.

But then he wasn't.

Somehow, he knew it was Nina even before he heard the door swing inward and recognised the rhythm of her footsteps. She slumped into the pilot's seat to his left, and neither said anything for several minutes.

Jesper broke the silence with, "What are kyber crystals?" The thought had been haunting him since Kuwei had brought it up.

Nina didn't turn away from studying the starscape beyond the viewport, nor did she answer his question. Rather, she asked a question of her own. "Why are you wearing one around your neck?"

Jesper's hand tensed as it crept up to his throat and pulled out his necklace. A cloudy, translucent crystal about the size and shape of his little finger hung from the cord, tied in a complicated-looking knot at the top. It seemed to thrum in time with the pulse he could feel pounding through his fingertips.

Nina turned to look at him, then. The lines around her mouth hardened when she looked upon the crystal.

"It was my mother's," Jesper explained, tucking it away again behind his short collar, safe against his heartbeat.

"She was a Jedi," Nina said softly, her eyes narrowed in thought.

Jesper gave a sharp nod. "Aditi Hilli - she was one of the Lost Twenty, who chose to leave the Order-"

"I'm well aware who the Lost Twenty are."

"-and have a proper life," Jesper finished regardless. "She wasn't allowed to keep her lightsaber, but she wanted some sort of keepsake to remember her days as a Jedi with. So she took this crystal with her. What is it?"

Instead of answering immediately, Nina reached down to unclip her own lightsaber from her waist, and cradled it in her hands. With a feather-light touch of the activation button, it sprang to life. Jesper leaned in the study it, curious, even as he watched Nina pointedly angle it away from anyone's limbs or any important controls.

The saber cast a bright, whitish light, but the blade itself was pink - different shades from different angles, albeit, but definitely pink. Jesper wondered how many Jedi lightsabers had been this colour; as he understood it, the generic ones were green and blue.

"A kyber crystal powers a Jedi's lightsaber," Nina explained, her hand caressing the hilt. "It's where the energy beam comes from. It's also," she added bitterly, "where the Death Star's turbolaser comes from, if my thoughts on the matter are correct."

Though the mention of the battle station made Jesper shudder, his attention was still fixed on the weapon in Nina's hand. There was something fascinating about it. His hand crept up to his pendant again. "Are pink lightsabers common?"

Nina shook her head. "No. As far as I know, mine is the only one."

"What colour would my mother's have been?"

She glanced up at him, surprised, before she shook her head. "I don't know. There's no _way_ of knowing, unless there was anyone who knew her, and the Lost Twenty are rarely spoken about anyway. Unless. . ." She studied the bulge under his shirt where the crystal lay. "Unless you built a lightsaber out of it. If she imprinted on it all those years ago, it will still sustain the colour it chose for her. Unless _you've_ imprinted on it," she moved her gaze up to his face, "in which case, it would show the colour it's chosen for _you_."

Jesper shook his head, slowly, then more violently. "No. I'm not building a lightsaber. Not ever."

Nina raised an eyebrow. "But you _are_ Force-sensitive, aren't you? I felt it when you were flying us over that Star Destroyer. You rely on the Force, tap into it, use it to guide your movements in times of stress. It's what makes you such a good pilot."

Jesper didn't say anything. Nina took it as a cue to continue.

"I could train you too, you know. You _and_ Kuwei. We can-"

" _No_ ," Jesper forced out, finding his voice again. He gripped the console tightly and closed his eyes. "No."

Nina drew back, her brow creasing. She looked almost hurt. "Why not?"

"Because," he said, opening his eyes again and staring straight down, "my mother died because the Empire hunted her down and murdered her. Just for being Force-sensitive. They ransacked our farm on Lah'mu, murdered her, forced me and my father to run to Corellia. She only had time to give me this necklace." He closed his eyes again. "I was six."

Nina sounded uncomfortable as she said, "I'm sorry-"

"Me too." His tone was decidedly bitter.

"-but I don't understand," Nina finished, grasping at his wrist. "You have an ability that can _help_ people. That you can use to protect yourself and your loved ones - to stop anything like that from ever happening again. You have a _gift_. Why not use it?"

Jesper stood from the pilot's seat and wrenched his hand out of her grasp. "It's not a _gift_ ," he said, just before he stormed out of the cockpit. He didn't finish the sentence until he was out, away from Nina and her promises, away from the future that felt too much like the past.

He'd started with a shout, but ended with a whisper.

"It's a curse."

* * *

They arrived at the Rebel base - which Inej _still_ refused to tell Jesper the location of - a day later. After a tense few hours shuffling round the _Barrel_ , avoiding Kaz's strangely sullen mood and Nina's narrowed eyes, the Corellian was just glad to have the excuse to be in the cockpit again and get away from all the. . . unrest. . . festering among the team.

Next to him, Inej was currently arguing with the Rebel on lookout duty via comlink. Jesper glanced over just as she said, "Transmitting clearance codes now," firmly and decisively, daring the person on the other end to argue.

The voice that replied was faintly bitter, but they was the touch of a smile to it. _"Codes confirmed. Stick to your approved flight path."_ There was a pause, then, _"And Wraith? I've got quite a few questions for you and that ship for when you touch down."_

"Flight path locked." A smile tugged at the corner of Inej's mouth. "And agreed. See you there, Anika."

The comlink clicked off and Inej gripped the controls as they landed in the middle of a field. Jesper flicked a few switches overhead mainly to avoid the knowing gaze she shot his way.

Inej unstrapped the crash webbing and leapt to her feet, unslinging her jacket off the back of the seat and shrugging it on. "I need to go and make my report now," she informed him, "and I'm fairly sure that you'll all need to cover what happened in my absence. So, are you coming?"

Jesper frowned. "Who's coming?"

"Everyone except Kaz. He doesn't have anything to report in great detail, and knowing him, he'll stick around the ship just to make sure no _Rebel scum_ steal it from him." A sneer formed on her face at the last few words; Jesper was taken aback. Inej was usually so amicable.

But if the other option was to stay on the ship with Kaz. . . He figured he wouldn't want to do that. Not in the mood he was in currently.

"I'll come," he said. "And even if you won't tell me what planet we're on, I'd like to get a look at it. See how a Rebel base works."

Inej raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Jesper was glad for that at least.

* * *

"Captain Ghafa and Lieutenant Zenik to see you, sir," Senator Lantsov's aide called out, ushering the five compatriots into the Senator's office.

He looked up from his desk immediately, where he appeared to be frowning at a form crammed with numbers. "Captain Ghafa," he greeted jovially, "Lieutenant Zenik, Van Eck and company." Matthias scowled; Lantsov ignored him. He turned his gaze on Jesper instead. "I don't think I know you."

"This is Jesper Fahey," Inej explained, stepped forward. "He's a smuggler we hired to help us get to Eadu, past Imperial security. And we have a report to make about what happened on Eadu."

The Senator nodded. If the news surprised him, he didn't show it. "Then let's gather in the meeting room, and I'll call in the other members of High Command."

Inej nodded. "Of course, Senator."

"It's not 'Senator' anymore."

She froze, and glanced back up at him. "What?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, a rueful smile tugging at his lips, but there was a tension to his shoulders and a hardness to his voice as he said, "The Emperor dissolved the Imperial Senate. He decided that with the imminent unveiling of his new battle station, he didn't need the bureaucracy to keep star systems in line. The regional governors are in charge, now."

"Ah." Inej didn't have anything else to say.

They entered one of the meeting rooms via the door in the side of Lantsov's offices and stood there, waiting, for the other Alliance leaders to arrive.

While Nikolai Lantsov was the face of the Alliance - the most vocal and open of the members of High Command - Inej still recognised a few of the faces that filed in and occupied the seats around the circular table. Generals Tamar Kir-Bataar and Tolya Kul-Bataar were known to her, respectively; she'd served under the former at one point, and the generals' status as twins meant she'd interacted with the latter quite frequently. A couple of others she knew in passing, and the rest she didn't recognise.

She took in a deep breath to steel herself.

"Comrades," Lantsov began, gesturing at the five of them. Inej stood in the front; she got the peculiar feeling the men of their merry band were all trying to hide behind her. Which might have been possible for Wylan to do, but judging by the smirk Nina shot her, it was somewhat comical to see a man of Matthias's stature trying to surreptitiously hunker behind a woman as small as she was. "This is the team I dispatched to investigate the situation on Eadu, and they are now here to report."

Inej felt the precise moment that the laser focus of Rebel Command turned on her. She willed herself not to shrink from it; she'd never liked being the centre of attention - there was a _reason_ she was best at working solo, rather than leading a team - but General Kul-Bataar gave her an encouraging smile and his twin gave her a thumbs up, so she made herself begin talking. The words flowed after that, one after the other, with her companions chiming in when necessary.

Lantsov in particular listened intently, the cheery look on his face faltering when Inej had to take a deep breath before describing the Death Star, what it had done to Eadu - what it had done to Alderaan.

When it was mentioned, Kir-Bataar's golden gaze flicked to Lantsov's. Her bronze skin had taken on a greenish tinge. "If the power of this weapon is true-"

"Then we will discuss it once the Captain has finished her report," Lantsov said pleasantly, with a pointed look at his friend. Inej remembered something, distantly: supposedly Lantsov had begun his early career in his homeworld's army, and met Tamar and Tolya there. . .

General Kir-Bataar gave her an apologetic smile, and waved a slim hand in a gesture to continue.

Inej smiled. No one else spoke until she'd finished her report. Silence hung in the air, a delicate balance, for several moments after she did.

General Kul-Bataar was staring stoically at the table. A man of few words, he provided no verbal response to the information, but Inej could tell he was rattled. They all were.

Another person, one that Inej didn't recognise, spoke up from around the table. "And can Yul-Bayur's son tell us anything about this weapon?"

Inej opened her mouth, but it was Nina who replied, "We're not certain yet. We'll be sure to ask him for all he does know in the near future."

The speaker, a humanoid woman with pale green skin, narrowed her eyes. "You haven't begun questioning him already, during the trip here?"

"He was grieving," Inej explained quickly, before the thunder on Nina's twisted itself into words. "We were all trying to come to terms with what had happened. It didn't seem humane to ask him then. Not when his father had just died."

The woman opened her mouth again, but Lantsov steepled his fingers and said, "Acknowledged. Is there anything else to report?"

Inej shook her head. "No-"

"Yes."

Every eye on the room turned towards Nina Zenik.

Inej's friend lifted her chin and gritted her teeth. "Yes," she repeated. She took a breath, then: "During my. . . encounter. . . with Koroleva, her helmet came off briefly." She was silent for a moment to let that sink in. "I saw her face."

She took several deep breaths. Her lips moved to shape words, but no sound came out. She took another breath and tried again.

Fortunately, Nikolai Lantsov came to her rescue. "Did you recognise her, Lieutenant? Do you know who she is?"

"Yes." The word was an exhale of breath, even as all other occupants of the room inhaled. And held that breath, until one could hear a penny drop in the complete and total silence that followed Nina's utterance of the name, "Alina Starkiller."

Inej's eyes widened as she stared at Nina.

_Oh_.

The thought was weak, thin.

Quiet.

The sound that broke the silence was the faint rush of breath, like a starbird's wings, and whisper it carried: Nikolai Lantsov's, "Impossible."

_Improbable_ , a distant part of Inej's brain noted. _Never impossible._

She shook herself. It wasn't important.

It wasn't important because Lantsov's mouth was shaping words, but no sound was coming out, and Inej was so preoccupied with waiting for him to say something else that she started at Tamar's shout of, _"No."_

Inej snapped her head round to look at her old commander. The woman was on her feet, hands planted on the table. She and her brother glared at Nina, eyes burning like the twins suns of Tatooine. Nina took a half step back at that glare.

"Alina," Tolya, still seated, said with a sort of inarguable finality, "is _dead_."

"And even if she wasn't," his sister cut in, her dagger glare turning on Inej, on Nikolai, on everyone in the room, "she would _never_ do this things that Koroleva has done. _Never_."

Nina lifted her chin. "I never knew Alina Starkiller," she said clearly. "I was too young to remember her. But I've seen holos. I saw holos every day for a decade, because Master Zoya could never follow her own advice about how a Jedi lets go of attachments, and never stopped mourning her lost student. _Lost_ student," she said, half to herself. "That was what she always said. Not _dead_ student. _Lost_."

"You're wrong," Tamar seethed. "You have to be wrong-"

"I know what I saw." Nina's voice was deadly soft. "It was unmistakeable."

"Then _what happened_?" Tamar demanded, thumping a fist down on the table so hard Inej was surprised she didn't hurt herself. "Why would- why would Alina-"

"Tamar," Nikolai said gently.

The General's expression was still fierce, still fighting, but. . . Tears shone in her eyes.

"Koroleva was the one who killed Nadia." Her voice was soft. She sat down, and when she looked up at Nikolai, her face was soft, too. " _Alina_ killed Nadia. Why?" It was more to herself than anyone else. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know," Nikolai replied, voice equally soft.

The humanoid woman from earlier cleared her throat then. "I apologise for being insensitive," she said, sounding genuinely sorry, "but is there anything else about the superweapon to report?"

In unison, Inej's team shook their heads.

"Good." The woman pursed her lips. "You are dismissed. And I suppose we'd better leave too," she added to her fellow members of High Command, "to give the Senator and the Generals some privacy to discuss what is obviously a deeply personal matter." She caught Inej's eye, and gave her a hard look. Inej wondered if she was genuinely affronted, or was just trying to re-establish some semblance of authority in the wake of such a revelation. "You. Are. Dismissed."

Inej could respect her dedication. She bowed her head, and led the way out.


	10. Episode X

Inej didn't return to the _Barrel_ immediately after leaving the conference room. She helped Jesper wander part of the way back there, let Wylan and Matthias do their own thing, and watched Nina and Kuwei's retreating backs as they presumably went off to do Jedi stuff.

The first thing she did was get to the bunkroom she shared with Nina and take a shower. She let herself relax for about half an hour before figuring that perhaps she should go greet the person who'd promised a whole barrage of questions for her.

"You," Anika said, immediately upon opening the door to see Inej standing there, "have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

Inej had to grin. Anika was. . . a breath of fresh air. She was her best friend, after Nina, and the similarities between the two were staggering at times.

But while Inej loved Nina with all her heart, she still associated her with work, to some extent. Their relationship was complex and everywhere - they could go out one morning for waffles and end up breaking each other out of prison because a mission went wrong an hour later. Inej and Nina were the dream team, the Wraith and the Jedi, sisters in all but blood.

Anika and Inej weren't that close. They didn't work together on missions. They didn't even see each other that often when living on whatever base the Rebellion was using that week.

But Inej and Anika knew each other from _before_. From when Inej was a newly appointed smuggler, trying to find her way in a world she had suddenly rocked up the social hierarchy of. Anika, an old criminal compatriot of Kaz's, had taken one look at the former slave girl and decided to teach her the ins and outs of the trade.

Kaz had taught Inej how to survive, it was true. But Anika had taught Inej how to _live_ again.

"I suppose I do," she conceded, allowing herself to be tugged into the bunkroom Anika shared with a pilot from her squadron. She glanced at her friend - all flyaway hair and shimmering irreverence and expressive hand gestures - and sat down on the bunk next to her.

"First things first, then," Anika began. That was something one would never expect about her: she was always extremely logical. "Why did you come into base on Kaz Brekker's beloved _Barrel_? Is the _demjin_ himself here"

"I suppose a better question would be why you were on lookout duty in the first place," she pointed out.

Anika rolled her eyes. "Lost another bet with Lantsov. Been on duty for three days now - still got four to go."

"I find it eternally unnerving that you and one of our esteemed leaders have a habit of _betting_ on the outcomes of battles and training exercises."

"You should've seen General Kir-Bataar. She cleared us all out a few credits." Anika winked cheerfully, then sobered up again. She poked at Inej. "You're avoiding the question."

"I suppose I am." With a sigh, Inej admitted, "I didn't have enough faith in my own slicing skills to entrust such an important mission to them. So I decided to recruit the expert, and naturally-"

"Kaz refused to fly in any ship other than his own," Anika finished. "You know, I can slice just as well as he can."

"You were busy making bets with higher-ups."

"That is cruel, Ghafa. Cruel. I feel betrayed. To think, all these years of calling you my friend-"

"I'm sure you'll get over it eventually," Inej laughed. Very few people could make her laugh as much as Nina could, but Anika was one of them. "You always do."

"I'm surprised you got over whatever it was Kaz said to you," Anika said thoughtfully, calculation replacing the mirth in her eyes as she looked at Inej. "You were cut up about it for months."

Inej tried not to look like she was grinding her teeth together. "Necessity trumps sentiment."

"Harrumph." Anika pursed her lips. "You're an emotional person, Inej, and you own it. Don't start locking them away now. As Nina would say," she leaned in and put on a hushed, reverent voice, " _trust_ your _feelings_."

"Nina would kill you if she heard that sort of mockery."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." Anika sat back against the wall, kicking one foot over the other. "And Nina's a Jedi. She won't kill anyone, 'cept Morozova."

"And Koroleva."

"Her too." Anika frowned. "I really hope I'm there to see those despots get what's coming to them."

"You'll be there in spirit, I'm sure." Her chrono beeped, then, and Inej glanced at the time. "I should probably head back to the _Barrel_ , make sure Kaz or Jesper hasn't blown anything up yet."

"Jesper?"

"Kaz's newest partner."

Anika smirked. "I look forward to meeting him."

"I'm sure the feeling's mutual." Inej stood up, tapping at the belt round her waist - a nervous habit she'd always had, checking she was fully prepared. Only now, instead of ensuring she had all her toy spaceships and doodling books, she was checking for blasters and comlinks.

Oh, how things had changed.

"Promise me you'll come visit more often?" Anika asked, then added, voice half-serious, half-playful, ""Or I'll think the Imps have caught you."

Inej's eyes crinkled as she smiled wider. "I can do that." She turned to the door. "See you around, flygirl."

Anika smiled. It was a genuine smile - the kind that always lifted Inej's spirits, no matter the context. "See you around, Wraith."

* * *

Her conversation with Anika had put her in a good mood, so she felt positively vibrant when she finally got round to mounting the _Barrel_ 's boarding ramp. There were various sacks and bundles tossed haphazardly across the floor there, but that didn't stop her from bounding inside and shouting, "Kaz?" into the interior.

"He's in the back," Jesper called from the cockpit. Inej turned to ferret him out.

"Kaz?" She found him in what she recognised as the bunkroom she and Nina had shared, cradling a satchel she recognised as hers in his arms. "Why are you holding my bag?"

Although she doubted anyone else would have noticed it, he looked momentarily confused. "I'm clearing out all your stuff."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

He paused in the motion of picking up Nina's satchel from her bunk. Spying a glint of metal, she snatched it out of his hands; she did _not_ what to know what would happen if a) Kaz got hold of Nina's lightsaber or b) Nina found out that Kaz had gotten hold of her lightsaber.

"Because I assumed this job was over."

Her head snapped back up to meet his eyes. They were dark, his mouth tightly bracketed, but she couldn't read his expression. Few could.

"It's still just a job to you," she said, something sinking in her stomach. Shame flushed into the vacuum left behind. She couldn't believe she'd left herself think that he might actually stay for once. "Even after two planets have been blown up, with countless victims, you don't care."

He narrowed his eyes. "Not enough to get myself killed, no."

Inej just sighed, and turned to leave. "Alright. Leave with your credits and we'll get another ship for the next mission."

She was already in the hallway and approaching the exit when Kaz said, "Wait."

She ignored the faint hope that stirred in her chest and looked back at him. "What?"

He bit his lip. "Come with us."

Inej blinked.

Then she blinked again.

"Kaz," she said, tone half-placating, half-rational. "I'm with the Rebellion. I always will be. You know this." Her tone grew impossibly soft. "I'm not going with you and Jesper."

He pursed his lips. The moment of vulnerability was gone: his eyes shuttered, his face hardened and he raised his chin minutely. "Alright," he said. "I guess I'll see you around then." He glanced down, and seemed to realise he was still holding her satchel. "Here." He dumped it in her arms.

"Thanks." She gritted her teeth, then forced herself to relax. "And. . ." At his expectant look, her shoulders slumped. "Yeah. I guess I'll see you."

Kaz opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it again. The silence stretched into awkwardness.

Naturally, Nina managed to break it with an unexpected entrance.

"Inej get in the cockpit with Jesper and Kaz strap yourself in we're taking off quickly!" she barked, then dashed into the bunkroom. "Have you seen my-" she cut herself off when she glanced back at the bundle in Inej's arms, "-lightsaber."

Inej was barely paying attention. "Why are we taking off?!"

Nina froze. "You didn't know?" She shook her head. "The Empire found our base. The Imperial Navy is on its way, and all non-essential personnel are being evacuated. Those working in covert operations are leaving for the rendezvous coordinates now. And as for _us_ ," she finished grimly, "Lantsov ordered us to continue the investigation. Figured we've already got a team together, why assign a different one? Use Kuwei's information, head to another world involved in the construction of this _Death Star_. See what we can find out. Then meet them at the next base once they've set it up and all has been cleared, etcetera."

"Are the others already here?" Inej cottoned on quickly, mind racing.

"Kuwei strapped himself in while I came back here. Wylan and Matthias are arriving. . ." Nina made the strange, distant face she always did when she communicated with the Force, ". . . _now_. So get in the cockpit and get us off this planet!" She paused for breath, then, "My lightsaber?"

"Sure." Inej handed it over.

Nina took it with a faint smirk curling the edge of her mouth. She glanced at Kaz. "I guess you're stuck with us for a little while longer, then."

Kaz was looking at Inej as he said, "I guess so."

* * *

The base was in chaos. Jesper watched Rebels scurry this way and that out of the viewport, occasionally glancing up at the triangular Star Destroyers that kept coalescing just beyond the atmosphere. _Get here soon, Inej. I want to take off._

Almost like she'd heard his silent prayer, she appeared. "Ready to go?" she inquired, slipping into the chair on his right. If she'd noticed that he'd chosen to occupy the pilot's seat and not the co-pilot's, she didn't comment.

"I've run the pre-flight checks and she's ready for liftoff," he answered promptly, hands already flying across the console. "The only thing we need to do now is-"

A blast hit a building not far away. The ship didn't rock, but Inej looked anxious and Jesper gritted his teeth anyway.

"-fly," he finished, then yanked the controls. They flew upwards with a jolt; Inej yelped.

Jesper wasted a few moments of thought on apologies before turning back to the console, noting peripherally that Inej was doing the same. He didn't know if that Death Star was present - if it was, they were all thoroughly doomed, he knew that much - but he wanted to be out of here before he had cause to find out.

Dantooine's cerulean sky was approaching rapidly - probably too rapidly, a part of him thought, but they were in a hurry, they needed to get out of here, they needed to-

"How are those hyperspace coordinates coming along?"

"Kuwei gave me a destination just before I got in here," Inej answered. "Plotting the jump to lightspeed now."

"Well make it quick," Jesper muttered as they broke atmo, "because we're about to have - oh, _karabast_!"

"That's a new one," Inej somehow found the time to quip, even as her fingers blurred across the navicomputer and the ship rocked from the blaster shot.

"Shut up," he growled back, then he glanced up, out through the viewport, and his limbs locked up. _Mother of moons_. . .

"That's a big ship," he said faintly once he'd gotten his breath back. It had taken several moments to calm himself.

Inej barely glanced up. "Well, it _is_ a Destroyer-" She cut herself off as she actually deigned to look at it, and her eyes bugged out of her head. "That's-"

"A Destroyer, we covered this-"

"- _Koroleva's_ flagship."

Jesper gripped the controls even harder, even as they swerved to avoid fire from the turrets on one of the Destroyers. "Are you fragging kidding me-"

"Why is there so much swearing going on here?" The new voice was deep, disgruntled, and somewhat whiny. _Matthias_.

"Because," Inej said grimly, "we're in deep, deep shit." She glanced over her shoulder at the blond, who'd taken the seat behind Jesper. "Why are you up the front?"

"Kaz suggested, rather forcefully, that sitting in the cockpit and looking out the viewports might decrease the chance of me vomiting everywhere again." Matthias sounded so. . . _put out._ . . that Inej barely suppressed a smile. "He also mentioned the fact that the cockpit is yours and Jesper's territory, so he wouldn't be the one obligated to clean it up if I did."

Even Jesper had to bark a laugh at that. At least, until another shot clipped the side of the ship and he clenched his jaw against the shuddering.

Matthias was peering up at the blockade that had assembled itself over the planet. "That ship looks familiar. . ."

"We saw it on Eadu," Jesper bit out shortly. "It's Koroleva's flagship."

Jesper couldn't turn his head to look at him, but from the several moments of silence that came after it, it took Matthias several moments to digest the words. "Oh." His voice was weak. "How did she find us so quickly?"

Jesper looked to Inej - she was the Wraith; she probably had all the answers.

"Shit luck," she said promptly. "Our own shit luck."

"So now we're all going to die." Despite Jesper's attempts at flippancy, there was a sort of resignation to the words.

"No," Inej said firmly, "we're not. Standard procedure for evacuations is for the main ion cannon to fire two shots per transport, to try to blast a hole in the blockade. We just need to survive out here until they fire it, then we can jump to lightspeed through the opening."

"Easier said than done," Jesper muttered, dragging the _Barrel_ into another impromptu nosedive to avoid a barrage of fire. Inej scrambled to follow suit.

Jesper would never remember what happened after that. Whether it was for two seconds or two hours, the world narrowed to his hands flying across the controls, the crimson and jade streaks against the black, the rush of blood in and out of his head even as he dipped and dived-

But never buckled. Never failed. There was some cosmic entity leading him through the dance, and he could feel the ship under his hands, feel the trajectory of the bolts he was dodging, feel Inej's focus and Matthias's terror and even the captain of the nearest Star Destroyer's amalgamation of anticipation and frustration. . .

He also felt Matthias tense up behind him. He was dragged out of his trance by the blond's question, "What's that ship doing?"

Inej asked it before Jesper could: "What ship?"

But then he could see it. A lone starfighter, X-wing class, was flying right up to the nose of the Star Destroyer. _Koroleva's_ Destroyer, to be specific.

"Are they mad?" Inej asked, eyes following the motions. Then she stilled.

Jesper glanced over; her lips were slightly parted, her face drained of colour.

She looked. . . haunted.

"Inej? What are they doing?" Jesper couldn't quite keep the rising panic out of his voice. "Inej?"

Inej just shook her head. "The ion cannon should have fired by now," she whispered. "It should've fired, but it hasn't. There must be something wrong with it. And without it. . . there's no getting through this blockade."

Jesper almost physically _felt_ the fear in the cockpit mount. Most of it was Matthias's, but a large part was his as well. Inej, peculiarly enough, was the only one who didn't feel afraid. Just. . . concerned.

"Unless. . ." She trailed off, then checked the scanners. "That ship is powering up its hyperdrive," she observed quietly. She narrowed her eyes, then widened them again, realisation stark again her face. "No!"

Jesper shot his glance towards the lone starfighter again.

Just in time to see it dissolve into a streak of blue.

"What the- are they _crazy_?" It was more exclamation than question. Jesper's heart was thudding. "They just blew themselves to bits colliding with the-"

"Yes. They did." Inej lifted a hand from the console. "But _look_."

Jesper looked.

They was something wrong with that Destroyer. The bridge had exploded in a cascade of brilliant sparks - it seemed to be drifting towards the planet below. And the ship was falling in two directions, splitting apart due to-

Due to a jagged line of molten durasteel where the Destroyer had been rent in two. Directly down the centre.

Directly where the starfighter's flight trajectory had taken it.

"Mother of-" Jesper began, but Inej cut him off.

"There's an opening in the blockade! Go!"

Wordlessly, he yanked back the lever and sent them into the swirling mass of hyperspace.

* * *

The ship rocked as they sustained heavy damage, but Nikolai's gaze was fixated on the epic space battle going on outside.

"You've got to be kidding me," Tamar breathed next to him, staring out of the evacuation ship _Bittern_ 's viewport, "who would be crazy enough to lightspeed right the way through a Star Destroyer?"

"Who was that?" Nikolai asked his aid, hovering beside them. "Can you identify the ship?"

"We can, sir," his aide replied promptly. Before he could continue, Tamar had turned around and snatched the datapad out of his hands.

"Let me see." She flicked through it, eyes narrowed. "Callsign, Red Five; name, Lieutenant-" She choked up. Nikolai glanced at her, a concerned question in his gaze. She looked up at him, and even if he had felt like joking around - though he rarely did, nowadays; war took its toll on everyone - her expression would have sucked all the mirth out of him. "It was Anika."

Anika, who would laugh and wager and race against the best of them. Anika, the ex-smuggler. Anika, who was well on her way to becoming the Rebellion's newest mascot, she was so popular.

Or rather, _had been_ well on her way. Not anymore.

"It's certainly the reckless thing she would've done," Tamar offered. There wasn't a hint of a smile on her face; this wasn't the time for jokes.

But Nikolai tried for one anyway. "Well, kriff," he said, ignoring the scandalised look his aide tossed at him. "Looks like I'm behind on our little recklessness contest. What do you suppose I could do to narrow the margin?"

"Not now, _kapitan_ ," Tamar warned. Nikolai conceded with a grimace, then glanced outside again. Hope rekindled itself in his heart.

"Well, reckless or not, it opened a hole in the blockade," he pointed out. "She took out Koroleva's ship with her."

"Alina's ship," Tamar murmured. Unbidden, memories rose to mind - just as they had in the conference room.

Dark hair pulled back in a nonsense plait, wearing the robes of a Jedi but with none of a Jedi's serenity, Alina rolling her eyes - she'd always been so very _expressive_ , whether it was terror or joy she was showing - and laughing. _That's not how the Force works!_

Silver tears and red eyes, voice cracked from sobbing. _There is no emotion, there is only peace_ , the Jedi would claim. _Mal's dead_ , Alina whispering despite it. _He's dead and I miss him so much._

A high-spirited argument. _I think the Supreme Chancellor's a noble man - especially for his youth. He's barely older than you or I._ Shaking his head, wondering how, even with her Jedi education, she could be so innocent. _He's a politician. Politicians are never trustworthy._

Nikolai closed his eyes.

_So I shouldn't trust you? You're a politician._

_I never said that. I'm the epitome of trustworthiness._

_Sure,_ she's drawling, _and I'm a Sith Lord._

Nikolai pretended not to have heard Tamar's comment.

"Prepare to make the jump to hyperspace!" he barked suddenly, making everyone around him jump. He shoved all the memories to the back of his mind - no use right now, _no use right now-_

"We can't, sir."

Something froze in his veins, spreading through his chest to lay its chilly fingers on his still-beating heart. They squeezed it tightly, a vice; he was sure he felt his heartbeat stutter for a moment. "Why not?"

"That blast earlier took out our hyperdrive," his aide explained. "The astromechs are wheeling out there trying to fix it, but-" The ship rocked underneath them; the aide fought to regain his balance, "-we're under attack by a squadron of TIE fighters. They keep picking the droids off one by one. My assumption is that they're trying to take us in alive."

There was no need to elaborate. When it came to the Empire, _a_ _live_ meant _breathing_. Meant _torture_ and _interrogation_ and pain and willing to do anything to make it stop-

Tamar voiced Nikolai's own question aloud: "Who can fly and shoot well enough to pick off the droids without destroying the ship and killing us?"

The thing was, Nikolai already thought he knew the answer.

Out of the viewport, he watched the squadron of regular TIEs congregate into attack formation a little way away. And they were led by a pilot flying a TIE Advanced.

Those ships were expensive, high-calibre, rare. And the only person who flew one that he knew of was the Commander of the Imperial Fleet herself.

"Alina's on that ship," he found himself saying. Tamar's mouth flattened into a grim line.

"Oh."

No flare of hope. No change in stature. Tamar had seen what Alina had done to Rebels - had seen her slaughter Nadia, one of the last remaining Jedi, in cold blood. She harboured no desperate hopes that Alina being behind the mask would change anything.

But Nikolai did.

Against all rationality, against all sense, _Nikolai did._

Because Tamar hadn't been on Coruscant in the months before the end. She hadn't seen how hard Alina had taken Mal's death, nor how it had been Supreme Chancellor Aleksander Morozova himself who'd taken her under his wing and tried to comfort her, make her feel less alone.

The Jedi hadn't trusted her and her emotional ways - had alienated her because of them.

Nikolai had been back and forth, back and forth from his home planet of Naboo - he'd been too busy to make time for her.

But kind, noble, wise Morozova had found a way to make that time for her, and checked up on her, reminded her that he still cared, even if _no one else seemed to_.

Nikolai had been thinking about this ever since Zenik had dropped the bombshell of Koroleva's identity. And that seemed to be all it boiled done to:

_No one else seemed to care_.

No one else was there for her, checked in on her, tried to tell her that _it would be okay_. So all she had was the company of Morozova - a Sith Lord, their future Emperor - and her own fearful, embittered feelings. Ripe for the Dark Side pickings.

Alina had thought she was alone.

Nikolai wished he could have told her she _wasn't_.

He supposed it was too late now anyway. Alina Starkiller, the beloved Chosen One of the Jedi, was lost.

But some part of him still insisted that _lost didn't mean gone forever_.

He opened his eyes.

_I'm the epitome of trustworthiness._

_And I'm a Sith Lord._

"Please," he whispered, so quietly he wasn't even sure if Tamar heard him. He didn't know whom he was talking to - didn't know if anyone would hear him. Didn't know if the Force would grant him this small mercy, for once: to let her _hear_ him. _Hear_ him say everything he should have said before.

_You're not alone._

_I'm sorry._

_I miss Mal too._

_I'm here for you._

The words crowded together in his head - so much to say, and only one mouth to say it with. He took a deep breath.

High, spirited laughter. _That's not how the Force works!_

He hoped it was. _He hoped it was. . ._

"Alina," he whispered, "please don't do this."

The shape of the TIE Advanced turned toward the ship.

_Why does a scavenger know how to fly?_

_Why does a senator ask silly questions?"_

"Alina," he repeated. " _Please_."


	11. Episode XI

"So where're we headed?" Jesper asked soon after the stars turned to streaks and Inej turned away from the navicomputer.

"Jedha," she replied. "The desert moon of the planet NaJedha. Kuwei tells me that one of the rare materials used to build the Death Star was mined extravagantly there." She frowned. "Kyber crystals, I think he called them?"

Jesper resisted the urge to clutch at his necklace, his conversation with Nina flooding back to him. _A kyber crystal powers a Jedi's lightsaber_ , she'd said.

She'd also said it was where the Death Star's energy beam came from.

"Right." He tried to make his tone casual. He didn't succeed. "So, we're heading into a warzone like _Jedha_ simply because some random crystal came from there? Wandering around on a moon with an Imperial presence that high _just_ to follow a lead seems. . . risky."

Inej's mouth quirked to the side, though Jesper couldn't for the life of them see what was so funny about his (perfectly valid) point. "Why, Jesper. You're almost starting to sound invested in our cause," she teased. "A true Rebel."

He pressed his lips together, then admitted, "You. . . may have won me over. And. . . Eadu." He took a deep breath. "Alderaan." Inej's back tensed at the mention of them. "I don't care what moral compass you have - those actions were irrevocably wrong. I can't just sit by and let more things like that happen."

She looked at him then, dark eyes peculiarly intense, and for a moment she was as inscrutable as Kaz. He could almost imagine her being a phenomenal smuggler.

She said, "Welcome to the team."

* * *

Nina asked, "We're going to Jedha to investigate _kyber crystal_?"

"Yes," Inej said, then glanced at the still-lit lightsaber in her friend's hand, the icy blue one in Kuwei's. She'd only seen it a few times, but she was pretty sure that had belonged to Nina's old master. . . "Your 'sabers are making different noises," she observed.

"Yup." Nina lifted a hand to summon a helmet from where Kaz had had it hanging on the wall. "It's the training setting, so we can practice duelling without, you know, cutting each other's arms off."

"Always a benefit." Inej watched as Nina shoved the helmet onto Kuwei's head, blast shield down. The kid squawked in protest and batted her hand away, but the motion lacked coordination. With the shield down, he couldn't see a thing.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"You're relying too much on your eyes," she said cryptically, "and your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them."

"But without sight how am I supposed to tell if- _Ow_!" He yelped as her lightsaber made contact with his left arm. It tore through the fabric of his borrowed jacket slightly, but his pride seemed more wounded than his body. "If you do something like that!"

"Close your eyes," Nina instructed, "and reach out with your senses. _All_ of them. Not just your hearing and touch - your Force sense as well. Learn to see without using your eyes."

"How-"

"Reach out." Inej had never heard Nina's voice like that. It was soft, firm. Gentle. "Breathe. In, out. In, out. Now. . . _reach out_."

Something in Kuwei's posture slackened as he breathed, then he went still - calm. Inej hadn't even realised he was trembling until he stopped.

"Now," Nina continued, still in that soothing voice, "what do you feel?"

"I feel. . ." He trailed off as he tried to find the right words. "You." He breathed in. "Me." He breathed out. "Captain Ghafa, watching, and Captain Brekker at the door, pretending not to be listening." Inej raised an eyebrow at Kaz when she glanced over to see him there; he scowled. "Jesper in the cockpit, trying not to fall asleep. Matthias and Wylan, talking quietly in their bunkroom. And. . ." He took a deep breath. " _Her_."

"Who?" Inej asked, before she could stop herself. Nina shot her a glare, but looked equally confused.

"The woman," Kuwei replied vaguely. Inej got the sense his eyes were closed behind that mask. "The woman in the corner. She feels. . . bright." He turned his head in the direction of the corner he was referring to, despite the fact that he still couldn't actually see anything.

Inej and Nina turned to look; Inej frowned. There was no one there.

"There's no one there, Kuwei," she said, brow clouded. "Right, Nina?" She turned to her friend, only to be brought up short by the shocked expression on her face. "Nina?"

Her friend shook herself, and the expression was gone, but she still watched the corner warily. Too warily. "Right," she said slowly, eyes narrowed. "There's no one there."

* * *

For a desert moon, Jedha was _freezing_.

Inej shivered, unconsciously pulling her jacket tighter around herself, and glanced to her left where Kaz was walking. Though _strolling_ might be a better word for it; he moved with an ambiance she'd rarely seen in him before, even with his only partially-healed leg.

Kaz glanced over then, and cocked an eyebrow. "What?" The word was somewhat aggressive.

"Nothing." She glanced around again.

Jedha City was a mishmash of old buildings, market stalls and sand, and the population was equally diverse. The typically beige and brown desert backdrop was contrasted by the crimson robes of some of the inhabitants, the dark jackets, and - of course - the hard white of stormtrooper armour. One trooper stood outside the entrance to a side alley, hand on their blaster; Inej carefully avoided their helmeted gaze as she and Kaz strolled past.

She would've preferred to do this with someone else - _anyone_ else - but Jesper had insisted that Kaz knew the area, and Kaz had agreed. They'd had a glare-off until she'd conceded to allow him to come with her to scout out the area.

"Why are we here, Inej?" he asked now, glancing around furtively. "It's empty, crowded. The Empire sucked this place dry and left lowlife scum to feed on the bones. There's nothing for your high-and-mighty Rebellion here."

Inej didn't answer. Instead she said, "And how can you look at what the Empire's done to places like this and remain apathetic?"

"I'm not apathetic," came the gruff reply. Inej raised her eyebrows, even as she scanned the market stalls again - for what, she didn't know. "I just like being alive." He sighed. "How do you even know we're in the right place?"

"Faith." She still wasn't looking at him, but she could imagine his raised eyebrow. "The Force guided us here, so there must be _something_ here for us."

"The Force." Kaz snorted. "Great. I'm already dealing with three Forcies on this trip, now _you_ of all people have to go and-"

"What do you mean, me of all people?" There was something dangerous to her voice, even as she hushed it, seeing the stormtrooper patrol march past.

"I _mean_ that you never spouted this before!"

"No. I didn't. But I've always believed in it." At his stunned expression, she shrugged. "My parents were members of the Church of the Force, even when the Empire outlawed it. That's how they died." A moment of quiet, as Kaz opened his mouth, then, "I still believe in it. _I fear nothing_ ," she intoned, " _for all is as the Force wills it_."

Kaz huffed. "You're starting to sound like a-"

"A true believer."

Both of them whirled. They'd crept close to a small monument in the centre of the square, made of the same sandy-coloured stone that the city walls were made of. Inej didn't bother reading the inscription - something praising the eternal Empire, no doubt - but instead frowned at the human man sitting on the lower step of the monument, his gaze just about even with hers.

"It is rare," he continued, grinning. His mouth was full of yellow teeth, "to meet someone with such faith. Especially in this era." He pulled back a frayed brown hood to reveal dark, dark eyes. "What is your name, sister?"

"Inej," she replied, vaguely confused, but with a good feeling about this.

He smiled further. "'Holy'. Accurate, indeed." He inclined his head. "I am the Apparat, once one of the Guardians of the Whills, of Jedha's temple and its cache of kyber crystals."

"Fine job you did of that," Kaz muttered.

The Apparat didn't seem bothered. "It's true: all the kyber is gone, now. Gone into the gaping maw of the Imperial machine. There is nothing left in the temples but prayers and dust. But we remain." He smiled at Inej; she felt herself smile back. He held a fist over his heart. "We keep our faith, and our love, and one day the Empire will fall before the power of the Force. One day, the Jedi will rise again."

"I-" Inej was cut off by Kaz squeezing her arm tightly. When she glanced at him, he pressed his lips tightly together and nodded to her left. A swarm of stormtroopers were wading their way through the crowd towards them.

Inej tensed up as one began to speak. "Is this one causing trouble again?" He sounded bored, irritated - annoyed. "Is he bothering you?"

"Yes!" Kaz cut in before Inej could. "He's being such a nuisance. Please, do something."

She whirled on him, eyes wide and rant springing to her lips, but he dragged her away before she could splutter more than a word or two, glancing over her shoulder to watch the Imperials seize the Apparat with no regards for his age or comfort.

"Keep believing!" the Apparat shouted over their heads, and then they were swallowed up by the crowd.

Inej yanked her hand away. "Don't _touch_ me-"

"What were you _doing_ -"

"The man had lost his temple! We could at least be _decent_ -"

"I get that you have a heart of gold, Inej, but I don't consider being _decent_ as getting yourself _killed_. Though I suppose you _did_ join the Rebellion-"

"Don't you dare make this about that." Her voice was as frigid as Jedha's climate. "Would it really kill you to by _nice_ for once?" His face didn't move. "Even to me?"

He said, very slowly, "Why would I be nice to you?"

Something shattered. Inej couldn't tell if the noise was internal or external as she stared at Kaz, at the grim line of his mouth, dissecting what he'd just said, turning it over in her mind-

A blaster went off. Someone screamed.

Instinct took over, and Inej devoted zero rational thought to shoving herself and Kaz against the wall and yanking her blaster from the holster at her belt. Everyone else in the street were of the same mind and soon there was a screaming horde of people rampaging past them, _away_ from the firefight.

"Free Jedha! Imperials out!"

Inej glanced up. There was a Jedhan citizen standing on the roof of the building opposite them, holding what looked like a grenade in his hand. He tossed it at the entourage of stormtroopers streaming towards the sounds of blasterfire; they scattered, some of them in multiple pieces.

Jesper hadn't been kidding: Jedha really was a warzone.

A loud _boom_ shook the street; Inej clamped her hands over her ears, gritted her teeth-

There was a little girl crying.

There was a little girl crying, and wandering in her direction, no mother in sight. Inej threw herself away from the wall to scoop her up in her arms and bolted with her back to the relative safety of the wall.

A woman, emboldened by Inej's action, thundered down the street. At the little girl's cry of "Mama!" Inej gratefully turned her over to her.

"We have to go," Kaz insisted. "You heard the Apparat - all the kyber is gone. There's nothing here for us."

She shook her head wildly; dark hair stuck to her forehead. "No. The Force-"

"You think _the Force_ got you into _this_ mess?" Kaz bit out, lifting his blaster and shooting down three stormtroopers before they could so much as flinch.

"No," she panted, "I think it was _you_."

"What did I do-!"

But she was already running, _away away away_ , into a less populated area, into a dark, quiet alley, so she could give herself a moment to just _breathe_.

She was dimly aware of Kaz catching up with her, his shoulders shuddering in sync with hers, but she just tilted her head back, let cool air rush into her lungs, lifted her eyes towards the blue sky high above-

And the moon-sized battle station hanging there.

"No." It was more fact than denial. " _No_."

"What?" Kaz glanced up. "Oh, _karabast_ -"

"We need to go."

"For once, Inej," he glanced at her sidelong, "we are in agreement." He pushed himself to his feet, and she followed suit. "This has been fun but. . . Let's go." She hesitated, and he snapped at her, " _Now_."

* * *

They'd been meant to stay on the ship, to ensure for a swift departure, Inej had said. Nina broke that requirement within the hour.

She was sure Inej would understand.

After all, it was a _feeling_ that compelled her to do so, so considering Inej trusted the Force (and, by extension, Nina's abilities) almost more than Nina herself did, Inej would almost certainly be one hundred percent okay with it.

The rest of the crew would take a little more convincing, which was why Nina snuck out between one moment and the other, hoping that no one would notice until she got back.

Jedha, as they'd been extensively warned, was cold. And it only got colder as Nina followed that feeling away from the docking bay they'd commandeered and closer to the edges of the walled city - and the desert beyond.

Nina gritted her teeth and suppressed a shiver. It wasn't just the cold - there was a gaping _emptiness_ here, like the beating heart of the environment had been ripped out and sucked dry. It terrified her, feeling that yawning abyss where there should be light. Bright, brilliant light.

She wandered down one alley into its dead end, and was just peering up at the city's mammoth walls when she heard someone call her name.

"Nina."

She whirled, hand automatically flying to the lightsaber hidden under her poncho, heart beating in her throat. There was no one in the alley behind her, not even in the street beyond. She'd strayed into the quiet part of town.

"Nina."

Her head snapped round so fast she got whiplash. A twinge of pain ran up her neck but she didn't care, she was panting now, because that had almost sounded like-

"Nina Zenik." Oh yes - it was _definitely_ her. The derision in her voice could never be mistaken. "Is that any way to treat a lightsaber?"

She automatically gripped the saber tighter, even as she turned one last time to face the entrance to the alley. And there she was - Zoya Nazyalensky in all her tall, raven-haired glory. But that was impossible because she was _dead_ and was she. . . _glowing_?

"Oh, Force," Nina said aloud, "you're a _ghost_."

Zoya raised an eyebrow. "Glad you're smart enough to work that out, at least."

"You're as horrible as ever," she replied without thinking, more observation than insult, then instantly being horrified. "Oh, _Force_ -"

"And you're as disrespectful as ever, I see," Zoya shot back. It was almost a game, this trade of derogation. Their old daily sparring match. "Not to mention reckless. Do you even know how you're going to train that Kuwei boy?"

Nina clenched her jaw and averted her gaze. "No, Master."

"Well," Zoya huffed what sounded suspiciously like a sigh, "just teach him everything I taught you and he'll turn out fine."

Was that a compliment? It sounded like a compliment.

"That Jesper is Force-sensitive as well," Zoya added, almost as an afterthought.

"He doesn't want to be trained."

"Glad to see you've learned to respect other people's decisions." Nina gritted her teeth; she _had_ been somewhat. . . _pushy_. . . when she was younger. "Not to mention their secrets."

"Speaking of secrets," Nina said loudly - forcefully. "Why didn't you tell me about Alina Starkiller?"

Zoya pinched her lips together, and Nina prepared herself for a scathing retort. It had always been their way, her master and her.

"I didn't want to admit it," was what came instead. Nina was left stunned - she couldn't tell if that was an admission, an apology, a vulnerability, or all three, "and it was wrong, little one. _I_ was wrong."

Nina wasn't sure whether to fume or cry at the term of endearment. When she was newly Zoya's padawan, no longer a youngling, she'd _hated_ being referred to as 'little'. She wasn't a youngling anymore; she'd grown up. So, naturally Zoya had made a point of calling her 'little' as often as possible, if only to wind her up.

"Oh." The word was quiet.

"Nina, after Alina Fell, I spent the rest of my life and a large chunk of my afterlife wondering why she did. Wondering how to prevent it from happening to you."

"I am _never_ ," Nina began hotly, " _ever_ going to become a Sith."

"Aren't you?" Zoya's eyes were sad, even if her words were cold. "That's what Alina said. She hated the Dark Side, too - and therein lies the problem. You both _hate_ too much."

"I will _not_ -"

"There is a wildness to you, little one," Zoya went on, heedless of her heated denial. "The seed of the Dark Side. Alina had it too, though hers generally manifested itself in under-confidence, rather than over-confidence. But it makes me wonder. . . was it planted there by your master?" Nina was so stunned at the string of admission she was being treated to today that it took her a while to know how to respond. "By me?"

She found her voice again. "You were the greatest master-"

"Your next Rebel base will be on Yavin Four," Zoya went on, unfazed by Nina's righteousness. "When you go there, I want you to seek out some of the inhabitants for me - one of them is an ex-temple guard, an old friend of Alina's. Tell them about her, and also that I sent you to pick up something of hers left buried long ago." Nina remained quiet. Zoya asked, "Is that clear?"

Nina smiled slightly. "Glad to see you haven't lost your bossiness, Master," she said, "or your penchant for vague, senseless instructions."

Zoya smiled as well, almost against her will. "Get out of here, Nina," she said, and the humour in her voice belied the importance of her words. "Time is running out." She pointed to the sky just before she dissolved into stardust.

Nina frowned, then glanced where she'd been pointing.

Her heart stopped.

"I have a bad feeling about this. . ." she muttered, staring at the moon-sized battle station hanging in the cerulean Jedhan sky.

* * *

There was a thundering up the ramp, and Matthias suppressed a flinch as Nina burst into the main meeting area of the _Barrel_ , face red and hair dishevelled.

"We need to get out of here. Now," she said by way of greeting before barrelling into the cockpit and strapping herself in.

"Why-" Wylan started to say, and Matthias bristled as he was cut off by Inej bolting up the ramp after her.

"Because the Death Star is currently floating in the sky above Jedha, and I don't think it's there for altruistic reasons!" There was a brittle edge to her voice; its pitch rose to hysterical heights near the end of the sentence. Kaz, emerging into the ship just behind her, tried to put a hand on her shoulder but she shook it off. "We need to go."

"On it," Jesper shouted, already halfway to the cockpit. Matthias made to follow Inej as she darted in there, and he'd just secured himself in the spare passenger seat when Jesper had launched them out of the docking bay and into the sky. Nina gave a little moan next to him.

"Quiet," Inej snapped, attention diverted from the controls long enough to snap at her friend. Matthias was alarmed by her harshness - wasn't Inej the mildest, most forgiving person on this ship? - but he supposed she was under a lot of stress right now. Her focus was like a laser: narrow, sharp and, when it was turned on you, it _burned._ "Where can we go? What coordinates-"

"Yavin Four," Nina cut in breathlessly. "The next Rebel base will be on the moon of Yavin Four."

Inej didn't question it; she just punched the name into the navicomputer and tapped her finger against the console nervously.

"Prepare for liftoff," Jesper warned, apparently finished with the pre-flight checks. The ship's lurching coincided with the loud _boom_ that shook the ground; for one terrible moment Matthias thought the ship hadn't been shot at.

But it hadn't been the ship.

It had been Jedha itself.

"Mother of moons," Matthias breathed, staring out at the dust billowing beyond the viewport. The ground was receding beneath them, except the ground wasn't _there_. A miscellaneous mess of rocks and sand howled in a storm outside the ship and even inside, sheltered by the thick transparisteel, Matthias could feel the outwards _push_ from the explosion.

He felt sick.

It wasn't the violence or the death that bothered him, no: Matthias was from the planet Mandalore. The warrior culture he'd been surrounded with growing up meant he was no stranger to feuds. Or conflict. Or death.

But _this_?

Firing on a suffering planet from a safe distance away? Killing thousands of innocent bystanders, civilians, without even giving them the chance to fight back?

Where was the honour and glory in that?

What place did such slaughter have in the honourable and glorious Empire he thought he'd been raised in?

Matthias had never understood why Wylan had chosen to defect to the Alliance to Restore the Republic. He'd grown up during the Clone Wars, listening to his parents harp on about how weak the Republic was, and how they needed a strong, central government to combat it. He'd thought that they'd finally found that government with the Empire.

And sure, he'd gone along with the Rebellion's plans. He'd plotted to help take down Koroleva, Emperor Morozova, because they were tyrants. They were everything wrong with a power structure like this. But he hadn't wanted the power structure _itself_ dissolved.

But this weapon. . .

As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Death Star hadn't been built by those two alone. It had been built by all the rich sycophants that had perished on Eadu, undoubtably on the backs of slaves. It was the embodiment of wanting money for the sake of money, power for the sake of power, and not caring about anything else, whether it be innocence, suffering or honour.

The Empire couldn't be fixed. No new leader could be reinstated that would make everything better. Because there were thousands of sycophants in the galaxy, and an Empire was the perfect breeding ground for such parasites.

This Empire was rotten to the core.

Matthias wished it hadn't taken the deaths of billions to make him see that.

Jesper banked hard to the left to avoid a chunk of rock the size of a house. Flying through these conditions, Matthias mused, was like flying through an unstable asteroid field. He dearly hoped Jesper, being an reprobate smuggler, had experience in doing so.

"Alderaan, Eadu. . ." Matthias murmured, half to himself. "Why fire on Jedha?"

"Because of us." It was Inej who said it. All the tension had bled out of her shoulders, and now she just seemed lost. "Because they heard about Rebel activity on Eadu, and decided to destroy Jedha before we could learn anything from it. Before we could gather more kyber crystals, learn how it works. How to stop it." She laughed mirthlessly. "Maybe they even managed to plant a homing beacon on our ship during the escape from Eadu's blockade, and have been tracking us this whole time. It certainly explains our 'shit luck' on Dantooine."

"But we know how to stop it," Matthias said. "We have Kuwei. He can tell us, can't he?"

"I hope so." Inej was letting Jesper fly alone, now that they were out of the atmosphere and into space. "And I hope the Empire thinks that he died with his father. I hope that this is one informant they don't try to dispose of."

Matthias suppressed a shudder.


	12. Episode XII

Inej shoved her fist in her mouth and strangled a scream. _Why does this keep happening?_

"I don't see why you're so wound up," said a voice from the doorway to her bunkroom. Inej let her head thump onto the pillow. _Kaz again_. "We got out, didn't we?"

"But Jedha was destroyed. Because of me." There was a sort of bleakness to the words. There was a bleakness inside of her. There was a bleakness _everywhere_.

_Will we_ ever _win?_

"Because of the Empire," Kaz corrected, coming in to take a seat at the end of her bunk. "You've always been good at assigning blame where blame is due; don't break that habit now. Not over them."

"If we hadn't been on Eadu-"

"Then no one would know why Alderaan blew up," Kaz finished. "No one would be around to warn your precious Rebellion about what's coming for them. Hey," he went on when she didn't respond, "if you're really intent on blaming someone other than the Empire, blame me. I'm the one who set off those thermal detonators. I'm the one who alerted the Empire we were there."

"It wasn't your fault, Kaz," Inej muttered into her pillow. "You didn't know."

She felt the hesitation in his hand as he reached for her shoulders and rolled her onto her back. She sat up and looked at him, dark eyes blurry, studying the tightness at his mouth, the creases carved into his brow.

"If it wasn't my fault," he said gently - he was never this gentle, she'd noticed, only with her - "then it wasn't yours. You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong."

Her hands slip into her lap and clasped his. They sat there in silence for a moment.

"That little girl I saved earlier," Inej whispered, "she's dead now, isn't she?"

Kaz nodded.

Inej took a deep breath. There was a hollowness in her chest; her heart was a bell. She could feel the winds of hyperspace blowing through to ring it. "Why does everyone have to die?" she rasped on a stray breath of air.

"You can't save everyone."

"Well I should be able to!" She wasn't shouting, precisely, but her throat hurt anyway. "What's the point in the Rebellion if we can't save people?" Her voice quieted again. "What's the point in anything?"

Kaz said nothing. And so Inej uttered the words she never thought she'd say:

"Sometimes I want to leave the Rebellion. Sometimes I want to leave the Rebellion, the death, the cause - leave it all behind and be safe." She squeezed his hands tighter. "And be _happy_."

She could feel the tension in his hands, see it in his shoulders, hear it in how he held his breath.

"But I won't." All the breath was released from both their bodies, then, a coil unwound. A string had snapped. "Because that's not the right thing to do."

Even after she admitted it, Kaz didn't leave. They sat together in silence for a very long time, and only their breaths were heard.

* * *

The woman in the silver armour stood on the bridge of the battle station DS-1, known colloquially as the Death Star, and watched the ruin of Jedha beneath her.

"The homing beacon is still transmitting?" she asked - no, _demanded of_ \- her aide.

"The one on the ship from Eadu was knocked out," he said, "so I believe they were killed in the destruction of Jedha. But the one on the Rebel transport is still functioning, and we have their position."

"What homing beacon?" snapped the high-class accent of Vasily Lantsov, the underling the Emperor had assigned command of the battle station to. The woman still balked at the idea of serving under him - lingering opinions from a previous life prevented her from granting him anything close to _respect_ \- and hated that she had to explain herself to this _imbecile._

But it was as the Emperor had ordered, so it would be so.

"During the battle over Dantooine, I planted a homing beacon on the hull of the leader's transport," she bit out. She was glad that not only did her vocoder convey her irritation well, but the Force also made the temperature drop several degrees - even a Force-blind rat like Lantsov could sense it. He took a nervous step back. "It should lead us right to whatever new base they scurry to, which we can then target with this battle station."

"You didn't kill them." It wasn't a question. Lantsov spat the next word: " _Mercy_. I had thought it was a concept you weren't familiar with, Lady Koroleva."

"Careful, Lantsov," she said silkily, taking a petty pleasure from the way he stiffened at her change of tone. "This assignment is your chance at redemption. The Emperor is still undecided on whether Naboo will be punished for its errant Senator's - _your brother's_ \- betrayal. As Regional Governor, surely you should make your people's wellbeing a number one priority? I do have sway with His Highness, after all."

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails - reminding certain officers that their relatives were traitors generally encouraged them to reinforce their loyalty to the Empire. "Yes, my lady." His voice was sullen.

But Lantsov's bravado couldn't be culled for long. "Even so, you made the decision to let the Rebel leadership live on the off chance they could be of some use to us?"

"Most of the Rebels had already escaped through the hole in the blockade - the hole that _your_ ships failed to fill, might I add," she said viciously. Old hatred meant she took entirely too much satisfaction in verbally eviscerating him - _again_. "I am nothing if not thorough. When I put the Rebellion down, it will be _permanent_. I will have no stray terrorists around to threaten the peace of our Empire. _That_ , Governor, is why while you may have this battle station, _I_ am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet. I will crush the Rebellion-"

_Alina_ , the voice had said. She gritted her teeth.

"-and if it means letting a few insignificant insurgents go. . ."

_Please._

"So be it."

His face was pale now.

"So, Governor," she said pleasantly. "It wasn't mercy I offered them."

Nebulae swirled beyond the viewport; it was hard to keep her attention on the here and now. Somewhere out there. . .

No. It didn't matter.

Everything that mattered - that had _ever_ mattered - was right here.

"All I gave them," she finished with all the finality of a death sentence, "was a few more days to live."

* * *

Yavin IV was a moon hidden away in the shadow of the scarlet gas giant Yavin, its surface dominated by a hot, humid jungle. Inej and Jesper were the only ones in the cockpit when they first entered the star system, but by the time they'd breached the atmosphere and the full flora of the moon was on display, the door opened and Kaz slipped in - unacknowledged, save for the knowing glances the pilots shot each other.

Inej knew very little about Kaz's past, why he'd taken up smuggling, but she knew that he'd been raised on the sun-scorched, sand-scoured desert planet Tatooine. And she remembered this habit of his, a link to his past he couldn't sever: his unabashed delight at anything green. Although he did his best to hide it, Inej recognised the reverential silence that gripped him as they cruised about the trees.

Inej couldn't fathom it, spending one's formative years on a bland rock like that. Her parents had been travellers, traders: she'd grown up to the sight of mottled blue hyperspace, and the worn interior of her parents' ship. She'd learned the theory behind flying almost before she could walk - the theory behind secrecy and clandestine interactions as well while the Clone Wars had raged on until the birth of the Empire and her parents had had to turn to more. . . lucrative. . . means of survival.

No wonder she'd made such a good smuggler; it was in her blood.

They'd spent their lives running on luck, until their luck ran out.

These days, it seemed like Inej's fortunes were headed the same way.

"Transmitting clearance codes now," she said into the ship's comlink before the Rebel on guard duty could even ask. The person grunted; apparently, they didn't share Anika's goodwill.

But their codes checked out, so the grumbling guard let them through without firing and they landed inside one of the open hangars unmolested. When the ramp descended, Inej stately got out of her seat and headed outside, to where General Kir-Bataar was already waiting.

"Inej," she greeted warmly. The captain smiled in response. Tamar could revert between ice and fire as easily as breathing, Inej had found, and she was glad to see her superior was in a welcoming mood. "Glad to see you managed to escape. We lost too many people in that battle." There was nothing warm about that last part: just cold, hard facts. "I'm still surprised we're alive as it is."

"Did you have trouble leaving?" Inej asked as they fell into step - presumably towards Senator Lantsov's new office, where they'd get their next assignment. "I figured you'd have still been on the ground when that pilot jumped right through the Destroyer."

The General's tan face went pale at Inej's words. "We weren't," she said. "We'd just taken off, and our hyperdrive was damaged. Alina-" She caught herself. "Koroleva's TIEs were coming at us in hordes. Nikolai was muttering to himself - never seen him pray before," she added thoughtfully. "Don't know what that was about." She pressed her lips together. "I thought we were going to die." She took a deep breath. "Then they were called off. I still don't understand why."

"It doesn't seem to make any sense," Inej agreed, "but at least you're alive. That has to count for something."

"Perhaps," Kir-Bataar capitulated as they came to a stop outside the door, "but as far as the Empire is concerned, alive just means breathing. And why kill one Rebel when you can kill them all?"

"What do you mean?" Inej barely managed to get out before the door swung inward and Senator Lantsov was silhouetted in the frame.

"Captain Ghafa." He smiled at her, but there was rings around his eyes and the smile was strained. "Ready to give another report on the increasingly dire situation?" Despite his cheerful tone, Inej didn't think he was joking.

She appreciated the effort though, and let her mouth curve into a smile, despite the weight of Jedha hanging off the edges and trying to drag it into a frown. "Looking forward to it, sir."

The conversation was short and depressing; before long, even the famously cheerful Nikolai Lantsov had stopped smirking. He took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, and steepled his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

"Jedha," he murmured. He didn't finish the thought.

Then he glanced up again. "You'd better go get some rest, Captain; you've had a stressful experience, and it's not healthy to keep running on adrenaline. Send Kuwei Yul-Bo to me as soon as we can, and we'll begin evaluating our best chances of defeating that thing."

"Yes, sir," she said, and not even Inej could keep the tiredness out of her voice. But first she had to add, "And sir, if you don't mind me asking, could you give me directions to where Anika's staying? I promised her I'd visit more often."

Nikolai glanced up, and his shoulders seemed to sink even lower. "Anika?"

"A pilot from Red Squadron."

"I know." Lantsov straightened up, his brow clouded. "You were friends?"

Inej nodded mutely.

"Then I'm so sorry, Inej," he told her, "but Anika died over Dantooine."

The words took a moment to register.

" _What_?" Her heart was beating quickly, but her breaths were slow. So slow she might run out of oxygen between each inhale. "But- Anika's the best pilot I know, there's no way she couldn't have survived until that pilot jumped right through that Destroyer- Oh." It all clicked into place, and the completed puzzle was heavy. It sank into Inej's gut, dragging it into oblivion.

When she spoke, her voice was trembling. "Anika was the pilot who jumped through the Destroyer, wasn't she?"

Nikolai nodded. "Yes."

Of course she was.

Of _course she was_.

Inej clenched her fists, but the pinpricks of her nails against her palms was light - superficial. Sound seemed to echo; her head was floating somewhere far, far away. The only noise she could hear was her own laughter.

_Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery._

_You'll be there in spirit._

_See you around, flygirl._

There was a lump in her throat.

_See you around, flygirl._

And she would. Anika's face was imprinted on the insides of her retinas; when her vision blurred Lantsov into a mere silhouette, she could superimpose Anika's image over the top of him and pretend she wasn't dead, all was well, they could throw back their heads and laugh again like they had no care in the world. They could plot and plan a hope of a future, a galaxy at peace, a world without war.

Without violence.

Without death.

Inej gritted her teeth. She was mortified when she felt hot tears splash down her cheeks.

She shot her chair back like she'd been burned and lunged to her feet. "I- I'm sorry, sir," she said through her sobs, already making for the door. "I just need-" She left before she had to form her thoughts into a fully coherent sentence.

She didn't remain to see the sorrowful look Lantsov wore as he watched her go. Nor did she hear him murmur, "No apology needed, Captain."

Although he referred to her with his words, his eyes stared somewhere far, far away, like he was thinking of someone else.


	13. Episode XIII

Wylan was in the mess hall pointedly avoiding the curious gazes of the people around him when he ducked away from the queue and searched for a seat. Most of the tables were full, but he could see Jesper's hunched form over a table for three in the corner so he headed over there, heedless of the whispers that still followed him, even months after his defection.

_Imperial._

Any other defector would have been forgotten about by now - pilots accepted into the ranks of their squadron, foot soldiers proved their mettle time and time again, mechanics already faded into their essential background jobs. But Wylan was a lord's son; his value was in his information and his (father's) connections. And his information was becoming outdated quickly.

It probably didn't help that the base on Dantooine was attacked the day after he returned from a clandestine mission either.

He plonked his tray in front of Jesper, who didn't notice him until he flopped into the seat opposite. Though Jesper was the new face to the Rebellion, he garnered fewer stares than Wylan did; he just seemed to look the part. Frayed, mismatching shirt and jacket, easy posture, the strain of war in every line of his face. . .

"You okay?" Wylan inquired. It wasn't like anyone else on the moon seemed to be doing any better than Jesper, but it seemed polite to ask.

Jesper shrugged. "I don't know. Kaz refuses to leave the ship, even for food, Nina took Kuwei to be debriefed on what he knows about the Death Star, and the last I saw of Inej she was crying as she barrelled right past me. Don't know what that was about." He tried to shrug again, but there was too much tension in his shoulders for the motion to ever come off as casual. "I don't even know where to go, or what to do. I just feel so. . . useless."

"You and me both."

Jesper glanced up at that, surprised. "Really, merchling?" _There_ was some of the humour that had been missing from his voice before. "You? Useless?"

"The only thing I'm good for is contextual information," he informed him. "If High Command wants to call me in for more stuff on what my father might have had to do with the development of this weapon, then I'm available. But otherwise, I can't shoot, I can't fix things, and I sure as hell can't fly. If it weren't for the miscellaneous things I can yank out of my mind, I'd be useless."

Jesper frowned at that, and leaned forward over his lunch. "Didn't you say you can blow stuff up?"

Wylan blinked, startled. "Well, yes, I know which chemicals to combine to make what sort of explosion but can't every-"

"No," Jesper told him flatly. "Not everyone knows how to blow stuff up. _I_ don't even know how to blow stuff up. You've got a good education in there." He tapped Wylan's golden curls; he ducked his head, face flushing. "Marketable skills. Don't let them go to waste. What lessons were you tutored in? Other than blowing-stuff-up-istry."

"It's called Chemistry."

"Semantics. Just list them."

Wylan frowned. "Galactic Geography-"

"Scouting terrain for new bases."

"-Advanced Mathematics-"

"Inventories, logistics, essential management and the likes."

"-Languages-"

"Communicating with other species and other Rebel cells."

"-and Music."

"Excellent for entertaining us all after a stressful day." Jesper grinned.

Wylan found he had to grin back, but he shook his head dejectedly. "All of what you listed is work for droids. Probe droids, inventory droids, protocol droids-"

"But droids are expensive," Jesper pointed out. "To buy _and_ to maintain. Sending you - and other likewise talented personnel - to do it would be cheaper." He tapped his head again. "Maths again, merchling."

"I come over here to try to raise your spirits, and you end up raising mine," Wylan chuckled, only half-forced.

Jesper smiled at that, and the tired look in his eye abated slightly. "Glad to hear that."

Silence fell for a moment as they looked at each other. Wylan inexplicably felt the urge to blush.

Then the klaxons went off.

Wylan couldn't be sure, what with the flashing red lights, but Jesper seemed to go paler. "What's that?"

"I don't know," Wylan admitted. "An attack on the base?" But it'd been such a short time since Dantooine - it was just cruel to have another evacuation so soon. . .

Wylan's comlink bleeped. The message was from Matthias.

All the blood drained from his face; he felt light-headed.

"It _is_ an attack on the base," he rasped out. "The Death Star has entered the system. They're going to annihilate us all."

For a moment, looking up at Jesper, Wylan wished his companion was optimistic. He wished he could give him some words of encouragement, refute his terrified claim, offer some spark of hope in this war-torn galaxy.

But Jesper had been at Wylan's side as they watched Alderaan burn.

He had no optimism to give.

"The let's get the kriff out of here," Jesper growled.

Wylan found he had zero disagreements with that.

* * *

The debriefing was short and succinct. Inej, watching at the back, tried to cling onto hope.

"Bo Yul-Bayur planted a trap in the middle of his creation," General Yul-Bataar was saying, face grim despite his hopeful words. "A small exhaust vent, only two metres wide, that has access to the reactor shaft. One hit to any part of the reactor shaft, and the _whole system goes down_."

A hand went up. "Not to be rude, sir," a pilot Inej vaguely recognised but couldn't place said, "but _two metres_? And to hit it the torpedo would have to take a ninety degree turn downwards." He shook his head. "That shot's impossible."

"Well, you'd better hope it's not impossible, pilot," General Kir-Bataar said quietly, gold eyes flashing, "because our lives are all dependent on you making it."

There was an audible swallow from all the fighters stationed around the room.

"Anika could've made that shot," a male voice said, somewhere to Inej's left.

"Anika's dead, sleemo!" A female voice shouted back, brittle and tearstained. "We don't have a full squadron anymore because of it. And there's no one left to fill the gap."

Tamar, who'd apparently been listening in, frowned. "Is there _no one_ who can stand in for her? Just for this battle?"

The woman shook her head, dark hair bouncing. "All the rookie fighters are being hustled in as it is. There's no one else who can fly an X-wing."

"I can fly one," Inej said, before she even thought about it. And it was true; her parents had owned a flight simulator when she was younger, and her favourite setting to play around with had been that of the _X-wing_ -class ships.

General Kir-Bataar took a step closer to the woman and Inej. "Are you sure, Captain?" Her frown was disapproving, but Inej could hear the hope in her voice. One thin, twisted line of desperate hope, a shout in the dark for someone, _anyone_ , to hear it. Inej heard it.

She lifted her chin. "Yes."

And she would, she realised as she watched her own reflection in Tamar's eyes. For Anika.

For the Rebellion.

She took a deep breath, and imagined she could feel the oxygen seep into ever cell, every pore, every tired corner of her body that didn't think she could do this.

_For me._

* * *

The Death Star would be in range within a hour, they were told, so they needed to get up there quickly. Most of the group went straight to the hangars.

Incidentally, the hangar that the starfighter Inej was borrowing was housed in happened to be the same one the _Barrel_ resided. And Kaz happened to have heard all the commotion outside and come in to see what the fuss was about.

"Inej," he said urgently as she rushed by, eyes wide, "what's going on?"

"The Death Star just entered the system," she said breathlessly, eyeing the X-wing she was supposed to be manning over his shoulder. "We'll be in range of its turbolaser in less than an hour."

"Then let's get out of here!" The was a slight hysteria to his voice; it lifted higher, louder than his normal speaking tones.

"Can't argue with that," Jesper said from behind them. Inej whirled to see Wylan close on his tail, face red. Jesper glanced from Inej to Kaz. "Fire up the engines, then! Where are Nina and Matthias?"

"They're joining the official evacuation transports." Inej couldn't believe what she was hearing. "They're staying to help get everyone off safety." Jesper nodded curtly, and went to rush past her, but she grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Uh. . ." Jesper glanced at Kaz with his eyebrows raised. _"_ _G_ _etting out of here?"_

"You're not cleared for evacuation. We might need you to carry something out-"

"In case you haven't noticed, Inej, we're not part of your insurgency," Kaz said, voice flinty. "We have no obligation to wait for clearances, to _help_. None at all."

"But I thought-" She didn't finish the sentence, instead letting her eyes fall to the ground. She was mortified to feel them blur with tears. She felt like a little orphaned slave girl again: fragile and helpless and lost.

Abandoned by all that she'd had faith in.

"What did you think?"

The question was mocking. It had always been mocking, when it came to Kaz. Eyes still stinging, Inej didn't know why she'd ever thought any different.

"I thought better," she snapped, sorrow giving way to anger giving way to the righteous fire in her chest. "That's what I thought. I thought better." She looked at Wylan. "I suppose you're going too? You're deserting?"

Wylan glanced from the _Barrel_ to her, then to some point over her shoulder. She didn't need to look to know that it was Jesper whose eyes he locked with when he finally lifted his chin. "No. I'm staying. I'm going to be of use to the Rebellion as best I can." He added quietly, "Until the last moment I can."

Looking between them, Inej wondered how it was that small, demure Wylan had more strength in him than a hardened smuggler like Kaz Brekker.

She jerked her head in some vague semblance of a nod. "I guess I'll see you around then, Kaz. Jesper," she added, seeing him move up the ramp. "You too." There was nothing pleasant in her voice.

"Inej. . ." he said slowly. "I don't want to leave. I want to help your Rebellion." He took a deep breath. "But I don't want to die."

"You won't die." She was certain of that - whether it was the Force, ordinary intuition or just plain wishful thinking, she was certain of it.

"I don't want you to die, either."

"I won't." She squared her shoulders. "Because I'm going to go up there, and blow that monstrosity out of the sky."

Kaz paled. "No. That's- that's impossible."

"It's not. There's a weakness in the design. We're going to exploit it."

" _Inej_." He lunged forward and grabbed her hand. "Come with us." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Please."

Inej knew what that last word must have cost him.

But she detached his hand from hers anyway, and pushed him up the boarding ramp of his ship. "No."

Kaz bit his lip; she'd never seen him look so agitated. "Inej, you'll _die_!"

Something clicked then. "You're afraid." Of what, she couldn't place. Kaz Brekker wasn't the simplest person to psychoanalyse.

"Of _course_ I'm afraid!" he cried. His eyes were blazing. "Why aren't you?"

She lifted her chin, and pursed her lips. She made sure to look him in the eye as she murmured, "I fear nothing, for all is as the Force wills it. All life," she added, "and all death."

Something shattered. Whether it was internal or external, Inej didn't know, but something was now irrevocably shattered. Destroyed.

_Gone_.

Jesper had already fled into the shadows of the cockpit. But Kaz paused for a moment, leaning against one of the landing struts.

"You were right," he told her, "about what you said in Mos Eisley. When I got shot I don't get distracted. But I was distracted that day." He gestured towards his now-healed leg. "Because I'd heard rumours that the Imperials had caught a Rebel spy. And I was worried it was you."

Before she could respond, he turned his back and walked up the boarding ramp. Two minutes later, the _Barrel_ took off. Less than ten minutes later, it had jumped to hyperspace.

Inej didn't bother watching it go. She had a job to do, and she was going to do it right.


	14. Episode XIV

"That's the last of the crates," Matthias said, dusting off his hands as he descended the cargo ramp. "Nearly all the supplies should be still available if the cargo pilots manage to fly them off during the battle. The Rebellion might survive this."

"And even if we don't, and the Death Star does fire," Nina said slowly, "there are other Rebel cells. Smaller ones - much smaller; it probably wasn't wise, in hindsight, to have so many of our soldiers at one base - but they exist. They banded together once; they'll do so again. The Rebellion _will_ survive this." Her dark green eyes met Matthias's. "As long as there are decent people in the world, the Rebellion survives."

Matthias found he didn't have anything to say in response to that. He just nodded, and pressed his lips together.

"Can I ask you something?" Nina said abruptly. Matthias shrugged. "Why did you stay?"

He blinked, startled.

"I heard that the _Barrel_ left the system five minutes ago," she went on. "You could've gone with them. Why did you decide to stay?"

Matthias could tell her the truth that had become a lie, that he had sworn to protect Wylan until his dying breath, and he was only here because of him. But that wasn't the whole truth.

The whole truth was: "I joined the Rebellion with Wylan - _for_ Wylan. I stayed for me." He pressed his fist to his heart. "I stayed for you and Inej, who risk your lives daily for a dream more distant than the stars in the sky. I stayed because if I ran now, the way I ran from Mandalore. . ." He trailed off. "I'd never be able to live with myself.

"I stayed because the Empire is evil." He was quiet for a moment, then added, "I'm just glad I can finally see it."

He looked at Nina, and though she may be about to die, though her best friend was participating in a death run against the battle station, though it was too hot and too humid and too sweaty on Yavin IV, she was smiling.

* * *

 

Though leaving the atmosphere of Yavin IV did little to the internal conditions of the X-wing, Inej felt something change when they did so. There was no going back now.

The shipboard comm crackled to life. _"All wings, report in,"_ the woman from earlier - the commander of the squadron - ordered.

_"Red Ten, standing by."_

_"Red Seven, standing by."_

"Red Five, standing by," Inej said aloud, flicking a few switches on the controls more for the hell of it than anything else. She hadn't flown one of these things in so long. . .

_"Lock S-foils in attack position,"_ came the next order, just as the ship shuddered. _"We're passing through its gravitational field; hold your positions."_

Then they were emerging from around Yavin's red body, and Inej heard the cacophony of gasps resonate over the comm.

_"Look at the size of that thing!"_ one pilot breathed out. Inej ignored the berating tone of Red Leader and tried to focus on calming her own heart rate.

_You're not on-planet, powerless. Not anymore._

She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes briefly.

_You have the power to destroy it, this time._

She opened her eyes again; the long, slow exhale that accompanied it released the tension in her muscles and relaxed her grips on the control. She heard Jesper's voice in her head: _Loosen your grips on the controls; it's just going to make it harder for you to move quickly and tire you out prematurely_.

Jesper, who'd left them all behind.

She didn't want to think about how much that stung.

She'd prove them wrong. She'd prove that they weren't going to die, that it wasn't a suicide mission, that the Death Star wasn't invulnerable and that one day, _one day_ , the Empire _would_ get what was coming to it-

She took another deep breath.

_You have the power to do this._

_So do it._

_"Heading for the target shaft now,"_ the commander of Gold Squadron said. _"But we won't get far if someone doesn't take out those turrets."_

Red Leader, replied with, _"Copy that, Gold Leader. Targeting the turrets now."_ A breath then, _"Red Squadron, attack formation. Draw their fire and aim for the turrets."_

There was a chorus of affirmatives, then the squadron swooped down to the surface of the battle station and the barrage of fire began.

Inej couldn't help herself: she cussed with every swear word she knew, in every language she knew, as she dodged the green lasers shooting for her fighter. Green lasers the precise shape and colour of the turbolaser she was dreading, like each turret was its own miniature Death Star. . .

Inej didn't think she would ever see a day where what she saw on Eadu and Jedha didn't haunt her every waking thought.

But today, that just made it easier to point and shoot.

Taking out a turret wasn't taking out a battle station, she knew, but when she watched one explode under her fire, it definitely felt as good.

Her euphoria was culled by a scream over the comms.

_"I'm hit!"_ a panicked voice shouted. _"I can't-"_

_"Stay on target, Red Eleven,"_ came the order.

_"I can't-"_

_"Stay on target. . ."_

A ship exploded off Inej's right flank. The screaming went silent as the comms hissed with static.

Inej felt the blood drain from her face.

_This is it._

For the first time, she believed what Kaz had said.

_I might die up here._

Would she have done it differently? She had to wonder. If she'd known that she was without a doubt going to die, would she have still gone up, in her last desperate attempt to succeed in what she'd failed at before?

Inej knew the answer to that. There had never been any other answer.

_Yes_.

One hundred times,  _yes_.

The next turret, and the next, and the next. They all exploded in a shower of sparks. She didn't stop firing.

She would have. She would have still done this.

_Sometimes I want to leave the Rebellion_ , she'd told Kaz. It was true.

But she didn't. For all this time, she'd stuck with it. She refused to leave the dream behind.

This was why.

More screams, from thrice as many pilots now, and blood thrummed just below her skin - she could feel her pulse in her palms, her fingertips, her neck - when they were suddenly silenced. With a shuddering voice Red Leader ordered them to cut off the attack and regroup.

Gold Squadron hadn't succeeded, Inej realised dimly. They'd all been obliterated.

_"All wings, report in."_ There was a tension to the woman's voice; they'd lost so many, already. As awful as some of the Alliance's losses had been, they had never been this steep. Not in such a short time.

_"Red Three, standing by."_

"Red Five, standing by."

_"Red Seven, standing by."_

No one else answered. Inej heard the moment Red Leader realised it as well; she gave a grim sigh.

_"Well then, Red Squadron."_ She tried for jovial, but it came out strained. Desperate. This was it. _"Starting our own attack run now."_

* * *

 

"Lady Koroleva," her aide said breathlessly, handing her a datapad, "the majority of the Rebel fighters have been destroyed, but four remain and our turrets are out of commission."

"We will have to destroy them ship-to-ship," she said, her mind already turning towards the thrill of flight and the feeling of life or death in her hands. "What is their heading?"

"The trench, my lady."

For cover? Or did they actually think they could make a difference against this battle station? What were the Rebels trying to achieve with this attack?

The armoured woman was suddenly brought up short by a fleeting thought she'd long believed irrelevant. Yul-Bayur - the designer of this battle station - had had a son. A son who'd been reported missing to the Star Destroyer in orbit over Eadu less than an hour before Alderaan's demise. And while this had been nothing new at the time - he'd apparently had a habit of attempting to break out of his quarters, before being dragged kicking and screaming back once caught - the timing was suspiciously convenient.

There had been a Rebel attack on the facility at that time - Koroleva herself had fought Zoya's half-trained padawan there. And Bo Yul-Bayur had been a mild Force-sensitive.

Was it possible his son was, too?

Was it possible the Jedi had sensed it?

Was it possible Kuwei Yul-Bo had survived the destruction of Eadu?

Yul-Bayur had hated the Empire, Koroleva remembered, quickening her step. Had hated it with a burning passion - was it possible he'd have built their weapon to be destructible?

And most important of all: Was it possible Kuwei Yul-Bo had informed the Rebels of whatever weakness his father had planted?

"Get all crews to their fighters," she ordered. It wasn't panic that fuelled her actions. It was _urgency._ Her silver cape flapped behind her as she walked, and she snarled as she said, "We will _annihilate_ them."

These Rebel fighters would die.

They would die, and then Yavin IV would burn, and then Koroleva would hunt Kuwei Yul-Bo to the ends of the galaxy, until she was _certain_ he was put down. _Permanently_. There would be _no_ loose ends.

After all, she was nothing if not thorough.

* * *

 

_"Red Five, you have incoming. TIEs at sector two."_

"Thanks, Red Three," she gasped as she _rolled_ , and then the Death Star was above her and-

The spluttering of static alerted her to the death of another comrade.

_"Red Three? Red Three, come in."_

Silence.

Inej pinched her lips together. _Why does everyone have to die?_

Was this the will of the Force?

How could it be?

How could the will of the Force be that the Empire won?

It didn't matter now. She gritted her teeth and kept going.

_"This is Red Seven, I've got one on my tail-"_

"I'm with you, Red Seven," she assured him, dodging her own pursuer and locking onto the TIE that had him in her sights. "Just one - more - moment. . ."

She pulled the trigger. The TIE veered off course, crashing into the side of the trench.

_"This is Red Leader, starting my attack run now. Cover me."_ The comms switched off and Inej yanked the controls sharply to the right to avoid being pulverised.

The fighters came in hordes - there was nothing Inej could do but shoot, and shoot, and shoot. . . She dodged, then shot some more, then dodged again, until life narrowed to the view out of the viewport, the fighters in front of her, and the fighter that was as much a part of her as her own arms and legs.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_ -

But there came the exhaust vent, and Red Leader was nearing it, she _was going to make the shot_ , and Inej was be _damned_ before she let an Imperial shoot her off course before she made it-

Red Leader fired the shot.

"Did it go in?" Inej asked it at the same time High Command did, intruding on the comms for the first time since the battle commenced. They all waited with bated breath for the longed for explosion to come.

_"Negative,"_ they got instead. _"It didn't go in."_

" _Karabast_ ," Inej swore, but she had other worries right now; they was another TIE on her heels and she - couldn't - shake him-

_"I'm on you, Red Five,"_ Red Seven told her. _"You're out of their sights."_ She let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Thanks, Red-"

She was cut short by a strangled cry.

"Red Seven?"

_"I'm alright!"_ came the response. _"My engine's been hit, it's out of control-"_

Inej gave the suggestion without even thinking about it. "Get back to base, Red Seven."

It took a moment to register. _"What? No!"_

"You _have_ to," she insisted through gritted teeth, veering her X-wing round to face the TIE pursuing her and blast them, "you're no use to us _dead_ , and you can't fly reliably with a faulty engine."

_"I'm with Red Five, Seven,"_ Red Leader came in. _"Get back to base. Someone has to survive today."_

_"But-"_

_"That's an order!"_

Inej could practically feel the stubbornness and displeasure, but finally she saw the ship on her scopes turn round and fly back to Yavin IV.

_"I guess it's just you and me now, Wraith,"_ Red Leader said. Inej startled; she hadn't realised the woman knew who was flying with her.

"I guess so," she replied, squeezing the controls tighter.

_"Restarting our attack run,"_ the commander said, _"and this is the last shot we'll get, so let's make it count."_

"Affirmative, Red Leader."

_"And by the way,"_ she said, as they swerved round another destroyed turret, _"if we're going to die together, call me Paja."_

She had to smile at that. "Call me Inej."

_"Well then, Inej,"_ came the feigned cheerful voice, _"let's make sure history remembers our ending as. . ."_

Inej finished the sentence, something expanding to fill her chest. It seemed that when she was on the verge of death, never had she felt so alive. "Explosive." She took in a deep breath. "Let's make it explosive."

* * *

 

_"You need to make the attack run,"_ Paja said. _"I'll cover you."_

"Are you-"

_"I'm sure, Inej. Go,"_ and there was urgency in her voice now, the anxiety they both felt stretching her to breaking point, _"now!"_

Inej went.

She dived down low, so low that a lesser pilot might have collided with the floor of the trench by now. But Inej had been flying for as long as she could remember. She was no lesser pilot.

Behind her on the scopes she could see Paja ducking, diving, weaving, shooting - keeping those TIEs off her tail. They exploded easily but more and more kept coming, like relentless fireworks.

Until a TIE Advanced emerged out of the horde.

The first Inej was aware of it was Paja's string of fluent swearing as she dodged to avoid their fire. _"Their shields are up,"_ she hissed, _"I can't-"_

There was an _oomph_ , and the sound was cut off.

"Paja?" Worry swelled in Inej's throat; she fought around the block to shout desperately into the comm, "Paja!"

Nothing came.

She was alone.

Everyone else up here was dead, and Red Seven had left, and Kaz and Jesper had left and Nina and Matthias and Wylan and Kuwei were on the moon behind her and they were going to _die_ if she didn't blow this thing up herself and-

She was alone.

She blinked away tears, hissing out a breath between her teeth.

_Focus_. The TIE was still shooting at her. She kept low to avoid its targeting computer.

_Think_. Everyone was relying on her making this shot. This seemingly impossible shot.

Why was it impossible? Because the target was only two metres wide. But. . . no. Countless pilots had tried to take that shot today and failed. It wasn't just the size of the target that was the problem.

What had that guy in the debriefing said? _The torpedo would have to take a ninety degree turn downwards._ Only then would it go in.

It could turn ninety degrees downwards, she thought, or she could just fire straight down anyway.

The TIE Advanced - and by now, Inej had a pretty good idea who was flying that TIE Advanced - still had her under a barrage of fire. But she wasn't afraid.

In that moment, Inej forgave all transgressions Kaz and Jesper may or may not be guilty of by running away.

They hadn't been cowards. They had been _survivors_.

And Inej could accept that, if it meant she died with acceptance in her heart rather than resentment.

Because in order to do this, she'd have to time it perfectly. And while she did it, she'd be a sitting duck for Koroleva to shoot into oblivion.

Inej pressed her attack.

No going back now.

The exhaust vent was just coming up ahead, according to her targeting computer. She affirmed it, then switched it off. It wouldn't be able to keep up with what she was about to do, and she didn't need it anyway.

The comms crackled to life, High Command weighing in. General Kir-Bataar - _Tamar_ \- saying: _". . .Inej? You switched off your targeting computer. Is everything alright?"_

"I'm fine," she said. It was only half a lie. "I'm alright."

_"Are you-"_

The target was in range. She switched off the comm, stopped evading the enemy's shots. Then, just like Jesper had taught her, she disengaged the front repulsors.

She was thrown heels over head, her nose dipping too close to the surface, and then- _There_.

She stared right down the maw of the exhaust vent.

She fired.

Her X-wing rocked, but it wasn't the explosion she wanted. The steering was off; she careened wildly through space, away from the Death Star, no control over her trajectory-

She was hit.

She could feel the heat of the electrical fire burning behind her; sweat stuck her hair to her forehead and drenched her back; her hands shuddered as she tried to move them.

She was going to die in this starfighter.

_Well, if it's the will of the Force. . .,_ a part of her thought.

_No_ , the rest of her thought.

In Inej's experience, very little was stronger than the will of the Force. But if anything was, then it was an organism's will to live.

_Her_ will to live.

She mashed the eject button.

The motion that threw her into space stole the air from her lungs, even if she was wearing a mask and a pressurised suit. The X-wing behind her was rent in two by the blasts Koroleva hammered it with - she couldn't hear it, but she could _see_ it, light playing through the darkness of space, even through her own eyelids, except. . .

An explosion her X-wing caused wouldn't be that bright.

And an explosion her X-wing caused wouldn't generate a large force either, and that was an immense force she felt shoving her away, flinging her, twisting and spinning, into the cold abyss of space-

She opened her eyes to see the TIE Advanced rocketing for her.

Revenge, she thought. The Death Star was gone - oh Force it was gone it was finally, finally, _gone_ \- and Koroleva wanted revenge. And Inej was sitting mynock, just floating here.

She refused to close her eyes as it approached. She would watch her death head on-

-as it got blasted out of the sky by a stray ship.

"What?" she said aloud into the secrecy of her helmet, but she knew in her bones who it was before she even glanced up.

The dilapidated hull of the _Barrel_ had never been a more welcome sight.

It turned before her eyes, until she was facing the airlock and it was approaching her, gently scooping her up into its interior. She tumbled to the floor as artificial gravity kicked in then lay there, unmoving. Nothing quite seemed real.

"Inej?" She heard her name as if from very far away. "Inej!"

Then there were running footsteps, and there were hands on her shoulders rolling her over and- and Kaz was there. Kaz was there, terror in his eyes, tugging her helmet off and brushing her hair away from her face and clutching her biceps tightly.

Only later did she recall that he'd been chanting her name over and over and over, like a worried prayer.

Her eyes slid shut and she felt him tense, felt the breath lock inside his body. "Inej-"

"Kaz," she breathed. She couldn't manage anything louder, but it was apparently enough; he sagged, something that sounded suspiciously like a sob racking through him. She let her eyes slide open again and stared up at him in wonder, gaze tracing the contours of his face. "You- you came back."

His grip tightened, and he bowed his head.

"Of _course_ I came back, Inej," he said, like this wasn't some irregularity, like this wasn't perhaps the sweetest thing she'd ever seen him do. "That's what we do, isn't it?" He voice rose higher, into hysterics; his grip on her tightened. "We come back for each other."

She bit her lip. She wanted to cry - but why, she couldn't tell. Stress? Trauma? Everything she'd always dreamed could be between her and Kaz but she'd never had the courage to pursue?

"Yes," she forced out. She was feeling lightheaded - the world spun, and spun some more. "We. . . come. . . back. . ."

The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was his panicked shouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's Part I of this story finished, and I'm sorry to say it might be a while before Part II is ready to be posted. I've found, while writing this story, that it only really works when I've written ahead by about 10,000 words, so I can go back and fix plot holes before I post, rather than having to retcon them later. That being said, I hope I can continue posting within the month, but I can't promise to have enough written out by then.
> 
> Feel free to nag me if I'm taking too long to post; the last time I put something on a brief hiatus it was my TOG story Long Lost Lives and I never returned to that. But it's the most motivational thing in the world, knowing that someone wants to keep reading enough to actively nag me to keep writing.
> 
> Thank you for reading so far, and I hope to be back again in a few weeks!


	15. Episode XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Thank you all for being so patient. I'm planning on updating this story every Sunday for the next month or so, and after that we head into major exam season, so we'll see how that goes.  
> Part II is very different to Part I in that it delves into the characters a lot more, and is a much more spiritual journey than Part I. There are lots of different subplots that I'm trying to handle, so don't be shy to point out where I haven't managed to adequately explain something. I think it'll be about as long as Part I was, and the story will end with it - that is, there won't be a Part III. I've got nearly all of it planned out, even though it's not actually written yet.  
> I think that covers everything that needs to be said at this moment in time, so thanks for reading this far and I hope you enjoy Part II!

**.**

**Part II: Star-Killer**

**.**

"Looks like we missed one," Nina mused, moments after they watched the cargo ship take flight. She didn't seem frustrated - no, by this point she just seemed resigned. That perhaps scared him more than anything. He was so used to Nina being an emotional whirlwind that her conducting herself with the peace and calm the Jedi were supposed to possess was. . . unnerving.

Matthias cast her a sidelong glance. "So, what do we do with it?" Purpose - having a purpose often seemed to snap people out of their dazes.

Nina shrugged. "Leave it here? It's all just more dust in the end."

How was the knowledge that Inej was up there, fighting for them, affecting her? She didn't look good. She didn't look good at all.

"Nina. . ." he began, then trailed off as she looked at him. He bit his lip. "Are you alright?"

Her brow creased faintly as she considered the question. There was a long pause before she took in a deep breath. "I-"

Her wrist-mounted comlink went off. Matthias couldn't hear what was being said, and the emotions that flickered across her face - sorrow, hope, joy? - were too muddled for (he suspected) even her to decipher, let alone him. He had no way of reading the situation.

Fortunately, he didn't have to. Because Nina told it to him.

"I'm not alright," she admitted, her voice trembling, "not right now. But I will be." When she looked up at him, her eyes were shining. "Inej did it. She blew up the Death Star. We won."

Euphoria exploded in his chest. Wylan wasn't going to die today - Nina wasn't going to die today - _Matthias_ wasn't going to die today. Inej had done it.

The respect he'd already held for her swelled tenfold.

Nina was halfway out the door. "Wait - where are you going?"

She turned back, agitation making her words short and sharp. "To the medical centre. Inej was taken there - I don't know if she's injured, or if they just want to check her over regardless. But I'm going with her."

"What should I do with this crate?" It was a stupid question, he knew, but happiness made him stupid. Joy, glee, unparalleled _relief_ \- he could be forgiven a little stupidity.

Nina clearly thought so too: a smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth. They'd won.

They'd _won_.

"Keep it, throw it out an airlock, dance on top of it singing sea shanties." She shrugged. "I'm going to see my friend."

"Okay." Matthias stared down at the crate. He'd join her later, but first. . .

First, he had a good feeling about this.

He removed the lid of the crate. He raised his eyebrows at the contents, his heart thudding faster in his chest.

Then carried it to his dorm room, and went to see Inej.

* * *

Nina couldn't quite contain her shock at who she found in the infirmary. Sure, she'd expected Wylan to be there - the members of their merry gang seemed to have struck up that sort of camaraderie - and he was, along with Jesper. That, in hindsight, should've been her first clue; hadn't he left Yavin IV with Kaz before the battle?

But what really brought her up short was the sight in the infirmary, of Inej lying barely conscious on a bed with a medical droid prodding at her torso, yet still having an avid argument with Kaz.

"And I'm eternally grateful for your assistance-" Inej was drawling, only to be cut off by Kaz's:

"The _Barrel_ isn't even operational anymore! I'll have a lot off repairs we need to get done. Those TIE fighters. . ."

The smuggler sat on a chair on the spy's right, leaning forward almost into her personal space. They were arguing in hushed voices - at least they were, until the med droid moved up to Inej's head and started wrapping a bandage round it. She contained her hiss, but couldn't quite suppress a flinch, and Kaz leaned back.

"Maybe we shouldn't have this conversation now," he cautioned.

Inej rolled her eyes, then actually cried out when the med droid pulled the bandage tighter.

"Careful!" Kaz snapped.

"Don't abuse the droid, Kaz," Inej murmured as it trundled off to the next patient. She touched her fingers gingerly to her now bandaged head.

"I don't like droids."

"Thought you used to be a moisture farmer."

"Didn't like them then and I don't like them now."

"Yes, Kaz," Inej said in a tone just a _touch_ too placating to be sincere, "I know." She looked up then and noticed Nina's approach. Her face broke into a smile worthy of the brilliance of Tatooine's binary suns. "Nina."

"Hey," Nina replied in a hushed voice, pulling up a chair on Inej's other side. She pointedly didn't look at Kaz - or notice the faint flush on his cheeks as he considered what parts of their conversation she might've heard. "Heard you blew up the planet-killer."

"I heard that too," Inej tried to laugh, then cringed as the motion disturbed her injuries. She took in a deep breath between her teeth. "Don't know when that's supposed to have happened."

Inej's hand was idly atop the bandages round her stomach; Nina took it, and clasped it between both her own. "You saved us," she said softly.

"We're Rebels," her friend replied. "That's what we do, isn't it? We save each other."

A moment of silence fell as that, before she added, "Of course, Kaz saved me, but he says he's not a Rebel, so I don't know what that makes him."

"A friend." Nina looked up at Kaz then. There was something calculating in his eyes as she looked at him, and she hoped he understood the mixture of gratitude, warning and challenge issued in, "It makes him a friend."

While Inej wasn't looking, Kaz nodded once. He understood.

_Don't you dare push her away like that again._

_Don't you dare hurt her the way you did when she joined us._

Just to illustrate the point, Nina shimmied her hips slightly so the metal of her lightsaber banged against the side of the chair. Kaz just raised his eyebrows.

He had fortitude. She had to give him that.

"Inej," called another voice. Nina turned to see General Kir-Bataar approaching them. She felt Inej shift position. "No, don't get up. I just came to congratulate you, and- and thank you." Inej creased her brow in confusion. "You saved us all. You and the rest of our pilots."

"Everyone's dead."

The words were quiet, rasped out of a throat hoarse from screaming. And Tamar didn't flinch at them.

"Yes," she said, "they are. But we're not." She pulled herself up again, and her voice recovered its normal tone. "Nikolai has been talking with some of the other members of High Command, and we've decided that it was too much of a risk to have so many cells converge on Yavin Four at once. We almost experienced the annihilation of the main bulk of our Rebellion."

Nina pinched her lips together, remembering what she'd told Matthias.

"So we're dividing again," Tamar went on. "I'm going to lead a cell and relocate to another base; Nikolai and Tolya and the other members will do the same." She gave Inej a moment of silence to process that, then said, "I'd be honoured if you joined us." She glanced at Nina then, over to the corner where Jesper and Wylan stood, to the door where Matthias had just slipped it. She barely looked at Kaz. "You _and_ your crew of rogues."

Inej barely took a moment to reply, however weakly, "I can't speak for the rogues, but," she coughed slightly, "I'd love to."

Tamar grinned, and patted her shoulder. "We're finishing our evacuations of the base and then heading out. No, don't get up; you don't have to help. Especially not in this condition. You'll be escorted onto the flagship when it's time for all personnel to leave."

Inej frowned, but nodded.

"General," Nina said. Kir-Bataar turned to her, eyebrows raised. "I have something to do before we leave Yavin Four."

"Jedi business?"

"Jedi business. Permission to leave the base?"

She sighed. "Permission granted. Make sure you're back by the end of the cycle so you don't get left behind."

"I won't," Nina promised, then checked her chrono. She had. . . seven standard hours to track down those old friends of Starkiller's Zoya had talked about. "I'll be here." She said the last part to Inej, whose hand she was still gripping tightly. She squeezed it, then let go and walked out of the infirmary.

She had a job to do.

* * *

Yavin IV had a small population, so it was fairly easy to locate the person Zoya had been talking about. The settlement was remote and quite a distance from the base, but it was a short trip on speeder bike, the sense of sentient life bright in the Force.

It probably helped that there was an actual Force-sensitive tree living in a garden there as well.

"Where did you get it?" Nina asked, then looked closer. "Is that-"

"-the tree from the Jedi Temple," finished Genya, a heavily scarred woman in her forties. Nina dimly remembered her from around the temple when she was young, but she didn't remember the scars. She assumed she'd sustained them during the Jedi Purges. "Yeah. I know that when the Republic fell, Zoya sent out a message that any surviving Jedi should flee, but I wasn't about to let the tree I'd watered and looked after for so long be cut down or used as fuel." She shrugged. "It took a while, but I uprooted it and planted it here."

"You were a Jedi?" Nina asked curiously.

Genya shook her head. "No. I was never strong enough with the Force for it to be worth training me. But. . . I was too strong to just ignore it. So I worked as a servant in the Jedi Temple instead." She jerked her head back towards the house, a misshapen bungalow built out of sturdy wood and random metal parts. "David was - he was one of the temple guards. It's how we met."

Genya may not have been strong enough to be trained, but Nina could still feel her presence, brighter than she might expect. And the emotion she felt from Genya when she mentioned her companion. . .

"I thought love was forbidden for the Jedi," she said.

Genya didn't even look surprised. She just shrugged. "The Jedi are gone. And even then, it wasn't uncommon for a Jedi's heart to get the best of them. Even Grandmaster Baghra wasn't immune to attachments - she had a son, after all."

_Emperor Morozova_. Nina suppressed a sneer. How ironic that it was Baghra's one attachment which had killed them all.

"I mean, even Alina, who was practically the poster Jedi of the Clone Wars, had her attachments," Genya went on. "She and Mal were honestly the cutest couple ever - if, that is, they hadn't done their utmost to convince everyone else that they were indifferent to each other."

". . .oh." Nina had nothing else to say. It made her uncomfortable, hearing the monster who'd killed her master - had nearly killed her - being referred to fondly, like a sentient being.

_Because she is a sentient being. Because she was tempted by the Dark Side. Just like you might be._

Nina shook her head. No. No negative thoughts today.

"Anyway," she said, slightly too fast for her mind to keep up with. She took a moment to let it catch up. "I was sent here by my master."

"Zoya?" Genya cocked an eyebrow. "She didn't come herself? I seem to remember she was of the 'If you want something done right. . .' variety."

"She's dead," Nina said baldly. "Her ghost gave me the instructions."

"Huh." Again, Genya didn't seem surprised, just thoughtful. "So David's path to immortality _does_ work? He spent so long studying that, trying to teach the other Jedi how to do it as well. Only Zoya and Alina and Baghra ever listened to him."

Nina decided she wasn't going to ask. "She sent me to find. . . something. . . of Alina Starkiller's. She didn't specify what, exactly."

Genya blinked. "Well, we've got lots of Alina's stuff in here. Do you want to come back and look?"

_Lots?_ Nina wondered. If Genya had enough of Alina Starkiller's stuff for it to count as 'lots', did that make it 'clutter'? Excess? And why had she kept it?

She shrugged. "Sure. I'll have a look." She still had four standard hours to get back to base. How much could there be, after all?

* * *

"Stars," Nina said. "How much stuff do you _have_?"

Genya shrugged - or, at least, it looked like she'd shrugged. Her heavy shawl concealed a lot of her movements. "Alina was my friend. When Koroleva first led all those troopers to march against the temple, I knew that our end was nigh. But I figured, if we could get our stuff away and run, set up a home in a remote corner of the galaxy. . . We'd be fine. So I gathered up her prized possessions, threw them in a bag with mine, and ran."

She sighed. "We'd already lost nearly everything in a political war; I didn't want to lose everything in a religious one. And I figured that if Alina survived, she'd find us. She'd find us, and we could set up a new life, somewhere far from the Empire and the Sith and all the evil in the world. We could survive.

"But Alina never came," Genya sighed. "And we never left Yavin Four. So we're still here today."

"You would run?" Nina was aghast. "You would ignore all the suffering and just _run_?"

Genya's back stiffened; the eyes that surveyed Nina were suddenly hard.

"I do what I can," she said coldly, "but I am no Jedi. Your precious order saw to that. I cannot help anyone. I can barely look some people in the eye without them screaming."

Nina narrowed her eyes at Genya's face, the scars that her snarl stretched into jagged, gruesome lines. Then she looked away. "Let's look through her things."

A little while later, and she had found nothing relevant. Nothing but old holos and clothes and - one time - a music box containing a figurine wreathed in scavenger's robes, which played a heartbreakingly simple song. She slipped it into her satchel when Genya wasn't looking; it felt important.

But nothing _stood_ _out_ to her - nothing for which the Force whispered, _This is it. You've found it_.

Then she came across the lightsabers.

She didn't come across them so much as spot them on her way out. By all rights, she should have seen them earlier; the rack was in plain sight and there was a clear path to it from the door. Nina had just chosen not to look there.

"Whose _are_ these?" she asked, awed, as she ran her finger along the hilts of one. They were all polished to a shine, perfectly maintained. There was a simple curved lightsaber with faded etchings on the side, a long one made of a dark substance that looked like wood, and even a guard's double-bladed saber. It was this one which Nina picked up and held gingerly in her hand as she ignited it. The beams that shot out of either side were yellow.

She blinked back tears. Of course it was yellow. That was the colour of a temple guard's lightsaber.

"Fallen friends," Genya said softly. "Koroleva may not take lightsabers as trophies, but other Imperials do. And a Hutt, once - Grakkus was merely a collector, a hoarder, but he was still allowing a legacy he had no part in to die, or worse yet, be paraded around as some sort of historical artefact." Genya shrugged. "I stole them from him. I refuse to let my companions' blades be used like that. And besides," she added, "cleaning them is one of David's hobbies. It takes a lot to maintain a lightsaber."

Nina put down the guard's one to let her hand slip to her own at her waist. "I know."

The silence stretched for a moment, then Genya prompted, "So. . . Have you found what you need?"

Nina began to shake her head, then paused. Glanced over the lightsabers again. None of them called out to her that they were what she was looking for, but. . . "Do you have Alina Starkiller's lightsaber here?"

Genya blinked, then frowned. "No," she said bitterly. "Alina had twin lightsabers, but I never managed to retrieve them. I never managed to give them the respect they deserved."

Silence fell again. They both stood there, among the relics of a shared past, and never had Nina felt the loss so keenly. This was all that was left of the temple that her been her life. Nothing but dusty music boxes and stale memories and lightsabers that should have shorted out long ago.

And she couldn't stay.

She couldn't stay, because the past was dead and gone but the future was still bright, still _real_ , and why had she even come here?

"I need to go," she heard herself say. "I need to get back to base in time for the evacuation." She didn't - she still had three standard hours to spare.

But Genya didn't object. "I understand."

Nina believed her.

This time, on the way out of the haphazard bungalow, Nina could barely look at what had fascinated her so much. These were relics, older people who'd seen enough evil in the universe and were now just waiting to die. They had no hope. Nina couldn't accept a life without hope.

She tried to make haste.

But when she passed under the tree from the Jedi Temple again, she paused. Glanced up at its leaves. Genya paused next to her without comment; it figured she'd seen enough strange behaviour from Jedi to last a lifetime.

The tree was. . . humming?

And. . .

"Oh," Nina breathed. _"Oh."_

_Tell them I sent you to pick up something left buried long ago_ , Zoya had said.

Buried long ago. . .

She sank to her knees and started scrabbling in the earth at the roots of the tree.

The earth was soft under her hands, yet it wore at her skin anyway. Before long her palms were raw, her cuticles bleeding. But she almost had it. She - almost - _had it_ -

Her fingernails clinked off metal. Her breath caught in her throat as she unearthed one, silvery Shoto saber.

_Twin lightsabers_ , Genya had said.

Nina kept digging. She'd dug up the second one soon enough as well.

"Way to be vague, Master," she muttered under her breath, clutching the sabers in her hands, then she turned to face her hostess again. Genya's scarred face still wore a faintly serene look, but Nina could tell she was shocked - even if understanding was beginning to dawn as well. She laughed.

"So you found what you need." She clapped her on the shoulder. "Get out of here, Nina Zenik. The Empire's on its way."

Nina turned back to her speeder bike to go, depositing the dirty lightsabers into the satchel slung over her shoulder.

"Oh, and Nina," was what stalled her. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Genya's faint smile. "If you somehow find Alina, alive. . ." She took a deep breath. "Tell her I miss her."

For a moment, Nina wanted to tell her. Wanted to shatter Genya's peaceful, passive world, wanted to tell her the _truth_ about her friend, about what had happened and how the evil currently squeezing the galaxy was far more personal than she seemed to believe. . .

But she didn't.

Because that would be cruel, and Nina was not a cruel person.

She hated these people, Nina realised. She _hated_ their lack of commitment to the Jedi ways she held so dear, their apathy when faced with the horrors of the Imperial regime. She couldn't understand how someone who'd suffered as much as Genya Safin had could bear to watch the suffering at hand without _doing something_.

But it was not her place to judge that which she did not understand. Genya was done fighting - David too. The Clone Wars had drained them, and the Purges had sucked them dry. They genuinely believed they had no blood left to bleed. Nothing left to give.

She couldn't understand that. There was _always_ more to give.

But when faced with that philosophy, the question was: when had someone given enough? Had Genya? Zoya? Inej?

Nina?

"I will," she promised, and left the village in a much more pensive mood than the one she'd entered with.

* * *

She made it back to the base in good time, and it wasn't long before she'd secured a spot on the same evacuation ship as Inej.

Her friend, mindless as ever of her own woes, asked, "How'd it go?"

Nina rubbed her arm. "Alright, I guess?" At Inej's raised eyebrows, she conceded, and sat down on the bunk opposite her friend. She didn't know what ship they were on, but Inej hadn't fulfilled her prescribed bed rest yet, so she'd been dumped on a ship with a dormitory. "I wasn't prepared for it."

"For what, precisely?"

Nina huffed a laugh. "You're not my counsellor, Inej."

Inej suppressed a smirk. "Try me. What weren't you ready for?"

She considered it, then shrugged. "Eh, why not. I guess. . ." She scratched the back of her head as she searched for the right words. "I wasn't ready for the realisation that Koroleva was once a person. I wasn't ready to see the Jedi Order as nothing more than dust on the pages of a history book. I wasn't ready to look into the eyes of someone who survived the Jedi Purges and yet who isn't willing to fight the Empire."

"Didn't the Jedi used to have a saying," Inej said slowly, "that went something like 'It's not whether or not we fight, it's how we choose to fight that matters'?"

"Yes." Nina gritted her teeth. "But-"

"If people have had their share of fighting, then let them muster out," Inej said. Her voice was gentle, soft - soothing. "Let them deal with their own demons, in their own time. Not everyone can be as strong as you."

Nina looked up at her. "Do _you_ ever want to muster out? Do you ever. . ."

"Wonder whether this fight is even worth it?" Nina nodded. "Every day. I admitted it to Kaz in a moment of weakness." Inej closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "But I'm still here." She opened her eyes and offered Nina a weak smile. "I'm still fighting."

"Inej. . ." Nina blinked. "What's going on between you and Kaz?"

Inej laughed. "Nothing. Old history."

"He risked his life to save you," Nina pointed out. "He's a heartless smuggler. That's not _nothing_."

"It's complicated, okay?" Inej scratched the back of her neck. "I guess I feel like I owe him or something - he _did_ get me out of. . . _that place_. . . and I just left. There're still some debts to pay, I suppose?" It was the weakest argument her friend had ever made.

"Translation," Nina corrected, "you think he's just 'protecting his investment'."

Inej looked startled. "Well, yeah."

Nina sighed. "Inej, I thought you were supposed to be the wise one. The emotionally adept one. But you can't handle whatever it is between you and Kaz?"

She was itching to talk more about it, to burrow to the very roots of whatever made this matter so complicated (Kaz's overall personality, perhaps?) but that seemed contrary to everything this conversation had been about.

Nina had to let her friend deal with this demon on her own. It was difficult to think about.

"Okay," she forced herself to say, taking a deep breath and steadying herself. "Okay. So you can't deal with it now. But you'll be able to deal with it one day. And if not, then that's okay. Some things can't be resolved." Inej was looked at her funny. "What?"

"Nina." Inej shook her head. "You're growing up."


	16. Episode XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should establish, just before this chapter in particular, that Part II of this fic really delves into some of the content shown in the (canon) expanded universe as well. In this chapter, examples include the darksaber and the planet in the Monsua Nebula. You don't need to be familiar with them to understand where it goes, as it has been for the rest of this fic, but for the people who do recognise them, I just want to make it clear that it is intentional.

It was a few days and a few parsecs after they'd docked with General Kir-Bataar's flagship that Matthias was sitting in his dorm and staring at the crate he'd. . . _acquired_. . . from the Rebel base.

Then he removed the lid and peered inside again.

The dim light of the cabin he shared with Wylan filtered inside and gleamed off the edge of scuffed metal - a silvery colour now turned grey. Matthias ran a reverent finger over the curve of the substance. It had been so long since he'd seen beskar - especially _armour_ made out of beskar. Mandalorian armour.

It had been so long since he'd worn it.

Carefully, gently, as if the pieces of the armour was a squalling baby rather than a tough-as-durasteel metal renowned for stopping blaster shots, he lifted it out of the crate. Examined the gauntlet he was holding. How had the Rebellion gotten hold of it? Who had the armour belonged to? It was Mandalorian, there was no doubt about that; the T-shaped visor and style was unmistakeable.

And the crest on the breast plate, still gathering dust at the bottom. . .

He ran his fingers over the familiar design of the stylised wolf. The crest of Clan Helvar, once burned into his brain as thoroughly as Mandalore's snow-capped peaks, was embellished in rusted red, half scratched off.

What battles had this armour seen? What legacy did it hold? Not even from its previous owner - Mandalorian armour was recovered and reforged over hundreds of years to each new user's liking. Matthias's parents had been killed in a skirmish between the clans when he was too young for them to help him forge his own. He'd been sent to a newly-instated off-world Imperial orphanage to be raised in a herd of kids who would one day serve as stormtroopers or other Imperial officers.

Matthias hadn't wanted that. When he'd finished his training under Brum - a Protector from the Concord Dawn system - he'd run off to find some Imperial family he could be a grunt for - and found Wylan.

What it all meant was that Matthias had never worn Mandalorian armour before.

He hesitated before strapping the gauntlet to his left forearm, but he did it all the same.

Once he'd finished , he tried to take a deep breath and was surprised at how easily it came. The armour wasn't as heavy or constricting as he'd expected, though it was by no means light. He tried to twist his upper torso and the armour moved with him. When he went down on one knee, it bent accordingly.

Despite himself, a grin tugged at his lips.

As he was in the process of taking the armour off, his attention snagged on something in the crate. He hadn't bothered putting on the vambraces - Mandalorian vambraces were known to hold a few thousand tricks designed to combat the Jedi, and he did _not_ want Nina randomly strolling in and getting the wrong idea - but they weren't the only items left inside. There was one item that appeared to resemble the hilt on Nina's lightsaber, except it was smoother, sharper, more geometric. . .

_Oh, mother of moons_. . .

Eyes wide, Matthias stared at it. Then, hardly daring to touch it, he lifted it out of the crate and pressed the activation button.

A humming filled the dorm as a plasma blade was ejected from the lightsaber's hilt. It wasn't shaped like Nina's - it was flat, with sharp edges, and limned with white. Electricity danced over it.

The blade itself was black, like a slice of a starscape wielded by a god.

* * *

Inej rapped on the door to the out-of-the-way cabin Kaz and Jesper had been temporarily assigned and tapped her foot as she waited for him to open it.

He did so soon enough, face set in his signature scowl. He still favoured one leg over the other: the ghostly remnants of his limp. She'd thought the wound was healed, but maybe not. Maybe it never would be.

Kaz would survive. Kaz could survive anything.

"What do you want, Inej?"

She didn't bother denying that she wanted anything. By this point, asking each other for favours was a new staple in their relationship. "We still need an official base, and I've been set a nice easy scouting mission to a few systems without Imperial occupation. Only thing is, we're using a stolen _lambda_ shuttle just in case, and those things are a right pain to fly on my own. I need you to co-pilot."

Kaz frowned. "Why did you come to me? Why not Jesper or your beloved Nina, Matthias - hell, even Wylan? Anika?"

"Anika's dead." She tried not to let saying it aloud affect her; it was hard enough watched the minute change in his expression without breaking down herself. "And funnily enough, Kaz, I'm asking you because I want to go with you. You're my friend. I enjoy spending time with you."

His stunned expression was priceless.

"And we need to finish our conversation from the other day," she added. "So you have that to look forward to."

Despite his undoubtable reservations, a smile tugged at Kaz's lips. "Just co-piloting?"

"Just co-piloting," she affirmed. "That's all I need you to do."

"Alright, then," he said, leaning against the doorway and meeting her eyes fully. Inej was vaguely surprised at how quickly he'd capitulated; he seemed. . . mellower. . . today. "When do we leave?"

* * *

"The Ganath Cloud, the Trindello System, the Moons of Ovise. . ." Kaz's dark eyebrows flicked up as his eyes scanned the datapad. "Is this a scouting mission or a sightseeing tour?"

"Oh, be quiet," Inej bit back, though there was no spite in it. She didn't feel as tense as she had in recent times. The Death Star was gone, the Rebellion was moving forward, and the Empire was scrambling to pick up its pieces. _And_ Kaz was treating her like they were friends. Things were looking up. "You _know_ the fact that they're Legacy worlds with beautiful scenery only has an effect as far as that it means the Empire has to get through layers and layers of bureaucracy before touching them."

"They blew up Alderaan and dissolved the Imperial Senate, Inej," Kaz returned. "I doubt they'd be any more willing to respect a Legacy world than a centre of culture and commerce like the Planet of Beauty."

Inej sighed. "Don't remind me. But until they do," she eased the shuttle round slightly, so they had a spectacular view out of the viewport of the purple-and-blue cloud of dust before them, "it makes it that much harder for them to find us. Everything tiny thing could alter the fate of this war."

"Oh, yeah?" Kaz sat back, arms folded. "Give me one example of how that's true."

The example came easily to mind. The Rebellion had suffered so many tragedies, and Inej had spent so much time wondering what she could have done to stop them, that she had quite a range to select from. "Anika died light-speeding through that Star Destroyer to allow the Rebellion to escape. If she hadn't, where would we be now?"

Kaz had the sense to stay silent.

Inej glanced down at the console - half to try and break the awkward stillness that had descended, half because she genuinely had to be cautious. "There's a few blips on the scanner behind us. Could be interference?" And here she was doubting herself. She gripped the controls tighter. "Run a full sensor sweep."

"Inej, it must just be a glitch." Kaz seemed just as grateful for the change in subject. "Even asteroids avoid coming this far into the Outer Rim."

"Run it anyway."

"There's _nothing_ out here-"

_"Attention, unknown shuttle. You do not have clearance for this sector. Identify yourself."_

"You were saying?" Inej gritted her teeth as the cruiser hailing them came into view, bristling with an escort of TIE fighters, and activated the comlink. "This is shuttle _Invictus_ , out of the Blackfel system, on a classified scouting system. Transmitting clearance codes now." When she deactivated the comlink she commented to Kaz, "You're a terrible co-pilot."

"Noted." Kaz stared out of the viewport, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Inej took the silence as a chance to voice her thoughts. "If there are TIEs and cruisers out here," she mused, "a Star Destroyer must be near. The Empire's reaching further into the Outer Rim than ever before."

"Finding a base will be near impossible for you, then."

"I'm sure we'll find a way." She tried to project an optimism she didn't feel. The Imperial cruiser was taking much longer than it should to reply. . .

_"Shuttle_ Invictus _,"_ the comlink trilled. Inej held her back. _"Your code is out-of-date, and you are not cleared to continue. Prepare for a boarding party."_

"Karabast," Inej said, almost mildly.

Then practicality took over. "We can't let ourselves be boarded, or the ruse will be up."

"Then let's get out of here!"

She shook her head. "We can't lead them back to the fleet."

"Fine." Kaz ground his teeth. "How close are we to the Monsua Nebula?"

Inej glanced at the navicomputer. "A jump away, maybe two-"

"Great." Kaz's fingers flew over the navicomputer, punching in a string of coordinates so fast she couldn't make them out. "Jump here, then."

Inej glanced at the numbers then. She wasn't sure if the display was blinking or if her vision was glitching. She felt sick. "Are you sure-"

"Do you trust me?"

Kaz's eyes bored into hers. She swallowed, but she didn't answer. _Couldn't_ answer.

He'd come back for her, but was it for her, or the Rebellion? And how much of it had been Jesper's idea?

A blast hit their rear repulsors. Inej scrunched up her face at the shuttle

She took too long to reply. Kaz's face fell, but he yanked the lever back to jump to hyperspace anyway.

Inej just slumped back in her seat and tried not to tremble. Stared at hyperspace until she'd steadied herself, then glanced over at him. "So, where are we going?"

"A planet in the Monsua Nebula. It's a hideout I found shortly after you left. Jesper's the only one who knows about it. And," he added, "we'll be safe from Imperials there."

She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because the surface it protected by an atmosphere full of cyclones and super-storms."

" _What_?" At the lack of response, she spluttered, "Are you _crazy_?"

She thought Kaz's mouth might have quirked upwards minutely. "Storms never bothered you over Eadu."

"Those were _storms_! Not _super-storms_! This thing will never get through!"

"I have faith in your flying skills." He was either pulling off the most subtle deadpan ever, or he was sincere. One could never tell with Kaz. "Besides, that shot earlier damaged the hyperdrive. It still works, but no matter where we jump-"

"We'll be leaking a residual energy trace." Inej swore. "A fragging arrow pointing right to us. They'll easily track it."

"No clean getaway for us."

"But we _can_ lose them in the storms." Realisation dawned. "And if they think we've perished in the landing-"

"-they won't be looking for us." Kaz sat back. If Inej didn't know him, she might have said he was smug.

She let herself smile, and before long she was sporting a full-blown grin. "We're saved."

"Watch it," Kaz warned. "I've done my part. You still need to tackle those storms."

Inej sighed, blowing out the breath between her teeth. "Right."

* * *

"You failed," Morozova said, "in every conceivable way."

Koroleva made to sneer, then remembered that her helmet was off and refrained from doing so. It was only here, in this room, that she ever removed it, but her most esteemed Emperor thought it pathetic. A way of hiding from Starkiller, and everything that came with that name. Easier to pretend she died in the Purges than to create some large elaborate backstory about why she switched sides.

(Easier to never have to explain herself to those who still lived - Tamar, Nikolai, Tolya - either.)

It was ridiculous. Koroleva never hid from Starkiller.

_Starkiller hides from me._

"You're dismissed." With a lazy jerk of his hand, the Emperor sent out the Red Guards stationed around the room and studied her from atop his throne. He didn't look angry - indeed, he never looked angry - but there was a solemnity to the set of his jaw, the curve of his lip. And when he fixed her with a look, she felt shame flush through her.

They had a partnership going on. He would handle the political side of things, she would handle the military sides, and together they would rule the galaxy, as was the will of the Force. Bring peace and security to a war-torn society.

She hadn't held up her end of the bargain. She _should_ be ashamed.

(Their relationship had always been like this, hadn't it? The handsomer, stronger, infinitely more charming Chancellor making the Jedi Knight feel insignificant and worthless in comparison, then happy beyond all joy when he called them equals. . .)

"I must apologise, Alina," the Emperor went on, voice suddenly honeyed and sweet. She ground her teeth at the use of her name - he was the only one who called her that, the only one who _knew_ to call her that-

He'd wanted her to keep her name, when she Turned. He'd wanted the satisfaction of having the galaxy know that Alina Starkiller, the Hero With No Fear, legend of the Clone Wars, supported his Empire. That she'd joined him, and that they ruled together. He wanted it clear that he'd tamed a legend, not created one out of a figure in chrome armour.

"I must apologise," he went on, "because I forget your nature sometimes. I forget, occasionally, that failure is in your blood and your scars. Your parents were failures of humankind, weaklings who didn't want you and sold you for drinking money on some backwater planet. Well," he added mirthlessly, "I suppose back _water_ isn't quite the word for it, is it?"

She said nothing. She couldn't say if her trembling was due to anger or hatred - nor who the emotions were directed at. Him? Herself?

"You've been so successful during the last two decades that I forget how you failed to protect Mal, how you failed to be a Jedi. I didn't want to believe it, kept giving you vital assignment after vital assignment. I _wanted_ you to be worthy of them. I wanted you to be like me." At some point, his gaze had slipped away into the distance, but now he refocused it on her. "I didn't want to be alone."

_I didn't want to be alone._ She shared the sentiment.

"You're not alone," she said hollowly. The words were a precise copy of the ones he'd said to her back on the day everything changed, when Mal was gone, the Jedi were falling, and only she remained. She'd thought she was.

But she wasn't.

Now, Emperor Morozova - Aleksander, he'd once asked her to call him, but she couldn't think of him that way - frowned. "Aren't I?" he asked, studying her. Seeing her for the inherently flawed person she was. A servant of chaos.

She'd sworn, back when the Clone Wars had newly ended and she'd sacrificed the order that had saved her from destitution in return for a safe galaxy, that she would never allow such havoc to destroy her life again. She'd given everything to this cause: hunting down Jedi dissidents (Sergei, Nadia, Marie, _Zoya_. . .), eliminating Rebels, cracking down on any star system that seemed prone to rebelling against their utopia, that threatened to destroy their hard-won _order_. Squeezing every last resource out of planets to maintain autarky and avoid trade disputes. Building up the military and recruiting (brainwashing. . .) new troopers everyday to live and die for their cause.

She would _never_ let the galaxy suffer the way it had suffered under the Clone Wars. Not again. Never again.

And the Death Star.

The Death Star. . .

"You allowed our greatest achievement to be destroyed by a lone Rebel snub." Morozova's voice had changed now, was hard and unyielding. "You tracked Rebel command instead of eliminating them, thus giving them the chance to fight back!" He actually slammed his fist down on the arm of his throne then; she kept herself from starting, but he looked just as surprised as she was. He pointed one long, accusatory finger at her. "You let them destroy all that we have worked so hard to build."

The Death Star had been their final resort. It had been the deciding factor in imposing order and safety on their galaxy. If love or respect - _gratitude_ \- for the regime that kept war for their doorstep wouldn't keep the systems in line, fear would. So long as they saw no war.

_Never again._

"It's increasingly clear, Alina," he said. She couldn't contain her flinch at the name this time, "that we are not equal. I perform my part far more adeptly than you perform yours. You must see it too; after all, have you not always refused a place on the throne at my side?"

There were a thousand reasons for that - the same reasons she wanted to keep her mask. She'd had enough of publicity, of being the galaxy's golden girl. But she reverted to her old lie to explain it.

"I-" _don't want to deal with politics_ , she began to say, but he didn't let her finish.

"You are not my equal," he finished. "So I will not treat you as such. Kneel."

It took her a moment to register the words. Her world was coming undone. "What?"

" _Kneel_." His mouth flattened into a thin line. "You are not my equal. The Darth Koroleva who was my equal perished on the Death Star with Vasily Lantsov and the million workers that the Rebel pilot murdered. You do not have the rank worthy of standing in my presence. Now, _kneel_."

She knelt.

Hating him, hating herself, she knelt.

"Good. Your anger makes you powerful, Koroleva." Somehow, hearing him say her title was worse than hearing him say _that_ name. "If you use it, perhaps you will not fail again." She narrowed her eyes at the floor.

"Now, go." She looked up, then; he glowered and she looked down. "Return to your precious fleet, but do _nothing_ without my command. You are no longer entitled to your previous autonomy, your previous _power_ ; now, you are an extension of my will. A cog in the machine of the Empire. Do you understand?"

This time, she didn't hesitate. She said it grudgingly, rebelliously, angrily - but she said it promptly. "Yes, my master."

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand - less consideration than he'd even given his Red Guards. She was nothing to him.

She was nothing to herself.

She'd always been nothing, when scavenging on Jakku, when struggling to be a Jedi, when newly emerging as Sith, she'd _never_ been _anything_ more than-

She took a deep breath as she left the room.

They weren't equals. She didn't belong here, as a Sith Lord, in the Imperial regime, anymore than she'd belonged in the Jedi Order.

She didn't belong anywhere. Perhaps on the dry desert plains of Jakku, but not without Mal. And Mal was gone.

She'd joined Morozova to establish order. Or had she joined him because she wanted to belong somewhere?

And, more pressingly: where was the line between?

* * *

"You're insane."

"Really, darling Inej? I had no idea. It's not like it's the fifth time you've said it in the last minute or any- _watch out for that mountain_!"

Inej yanked the controls and they flipped round, bashing the side against the massive rock that had suddenly sprung to life in front of them but overall avoiding a near-fatal collision.

Kaz had gone milk white; his hands were gripping the head of his cane with vengeance and his eyes were wide. It was the closest Inej had ever seen him get to unnerved.

She scoffed. "Why are you so afraid? This was your plan!"

"I thought you were supposed to be a good pilot!"

"We're still alive, aren't we?"

She peered out through the pinkish-red haze the storm left clouding the viewport and slowed her speed. Thunder rumbled again - another lightning strike was imminent.

"Oh, _skrag_ ," she cussed, the old swear word slipping out without a thought. Kaz looked at her in surprise; it was a rare one, a word solely used by the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic. She'd never told him her father had been a clonetrooper decommissioned early on in the war for PTSD.

He didn't know what this Rebellion - the _Alliance to Restore the Republic_ , the Republic her father had _fought_ for - meant to her.

This Rebellion she was about to die for.

"Please tell me the storms aren't too thick," she gasped. "Please tell me we'll get into the calmer atmosphere soon."

He put his hand on the back of her chair. "Don't worry," he murmured. Perhaps it was meant to be soothing, but the effect came out harsh and unusual in his gravelly voice. "It's just a little further. Oh," he added, "and you'll like it when we do."

He was right - one both counts. When they broke through the storm, she couldn't help but blink at the scenery below them, like a jewellery box of rich colours about to overflow, and once they'd landed she scrambled off the ship, down the ramp, out into the open air.

And Inej couldn't stop staring.

They were standing on a lush expanse of grassy hills in a small glade surrounded by what might pass for mountains on this planet: jagged orange rocks shooting at sharp acute angles out of the ground. The air had the faint aroma of sweet-smelling flowers, though she couldn't identify which ones. Sunlight was bright despite the storms above and it was warm on her skin. The sound of trickling water had her turning and gasping at the side of the waterfall, about as tall as she was, gushing over the side of the ravine they were standing in.

"This is _incredible_ ," she breathed, turning round again, her eyes massive. "Who would ever guess that underneath an atmosphere like that, one of the most violent electrical storms I've ever seen, the planet's core would be a beautiful oasis."

"Jesper and I certainly didn't back when we first crash-landed here." Kaz was expressionless, but the way he surveyed the area, the way his shoulders held no tension. . . he was proud of this discovery. He gave something which might have passed for a laugh, had he been anyone else. "Jesper wasn't quite used to piloting under appalling conditions, yet. We've used it a few times since."

Inej caught a glimpse of pale green buds crawling up the side of one of the rocks. Wandering over without really thinking about it, she felt a smile stretch over her face as she peeled back a petal to reveal the dusty gold inside. "Candlewick flowers."

"They're your favourites, right?" Kaz had walked up behind her and was watching her run her fingers over the climbing plants. She nodded wordlessly.

"This place is a paradise. It could be a perfect base." Then her face fell. "Except now it's no longer a secret." She grimaced. "Our hyperspace trail will have led the Imps right to your doorstep. TIE fighters may not be tough enough ships to get through those storms, but they could decide the risk is worth it and send down probes. And that's too big of a risk to take with the Rebellion at stake."

"Not," Kaz said, "if we _make_ them think we died in the storms."

She stared at him for a moment, then she understood.

A smile spread over her face.


	17. Episode XVII

"Inej hasn't checked in yet," General Kir-Bataar told Nina as they strode towards the communications offices, worry etched into every line of her face. "If you hear any transmission come in-"

They slipped inside an office, and there was a _ding!_ as one did exactly that.

"Never mind." Tamar shook her head, and glanced at Wylan. He'd taken a job in communications recently - Jesper had been the one to recommend him. Nina didn't know why a Rebellion general was listening to the word of a smuggler she'd just met, but desperate times called for desperate measures, she supposed. _And_ Jesper had Inej to vouch for him. Tamar trusted Inej with her life. "Who was that?"

Wylan had gone curiously pale, but he said evenly, "A message from Jesper. I asked him if he'd heard from Inej _or_ Kaz, but he says no."

"No?" Tamar wrinkled her brow. "They were due to arrive hours ago."

Fear tightened Nina's throat. She stretched out through the Force for her friend's familiar signature, but found nothing. Either she was too far away, or. . .

"Do you think they ran into trouble?" She swallowed. "Do you think they-"

"No," Tamar said, narrowing her eyes. "I may not have the Force, but I know Inej. She's alive. And planning something," she added. "If her behaviour seems irregular, it always means she's planning something."

"But what?" Nina said, just as Wylan's comm unit lit up again with an incoming transmission.

It was Inej's voice that was patched through. _". . .Ghafa, requesting General Kir-Bataar, over."_

"Copy that, Inej." Tamar was over there and speaking into the comlink before the rest of them could even react. "Where are you?"

_"Kaz and I ran into some Imperial trouble while on the scouting mission,"_ Nina's friend replied, _"and we took refuge on a planet Kaz knew of. We no longer have a functioning ship, but I think this might be a solid candidate for the new base we're looking for."_

Nina couldn't decipher the array of emotions that ran over Tamar's face at that, but the General's voice was even as she said, "Copy that. We'll send a team to pick you up and scout out the terrain. Transmit your coordinates."

_"Transmitting coordinates now."_

"See you soon, Inej," Tamar said seriously as the coordinates flashed onto the comlink's screen. "May the Force be with you."

* * *

Wylan was only slightly surprised that General Kir-Bataar saw fit to send him and Jesper as the _scouting and retrieval team_ she'd promised Inej. By this point, the mismatched crew Inej had assembled for the trip to Eadu seemed fated to stick together - and the Force was overly fond of throwing him and Jesper into each other's paths as well. Technically, Nina and Kuwei were also on the nondescript old freighter they'd commissioned trip, but they were in the back of the ship doing Jedi stuff - there'd been a lot of yelps on Kuwei's behalf - so it was only Jesper and Wylan in the cockpit.

"So. . ." Wylan began, then started again when Jesper glanced over at him, eyebrow raised. "Do you know about this planet Kaz and Inej landed on?"

Jesper snorted. "If it's the planet I think it is, then _crashed_ is probably a better way of putting it. The electrical storms in the upper atmosphere are nasty."

_"Electrical storms?!"_ Wylan near shrieked. "Inej didn't mentioned that!"

"I mean, I could be wrong," Jesper said cheerfully, the slightest tinge of sarcasm to his voice. "Kaz could have another smuggler's hideout in the Monsua Nebula that I don't know about." He flashed Wylan a grin. "But I don't think that's very likely, do you?"

Wylan huffed a laugh. "Perhaps not. But still. . ." He bit his lip. " _Electrical storms_?"

Jesper was flicking a few switches on the console as he assured him, "I've gotten through them before. I can get through them again."

Wylan's breath hissed out between his teeth. "Phew. I was worried there for a second."

"You're _still_ worried."

"I'm still worried!"

Jesper laughed."Don't worry, lordling. We're not going to fall from the sky in flames, lost all power, lightning coursing through the metal of the ship and reaching to stop our hearts-"

"Shut up." But Wylan was laughing too. He accidentally clutched the datapad in his lap tighter as he did, which soon sobered him up.

Unfortunately, Jesper noticed. "Something wrong?"

He should say no. He just claim he was fine, that he just wasn't feeling well - perhaps he was afraid of heights? That had always garnered sympathy from his father's high-ranking Imperial friends, but he didn't think it would work on Jesper.

"Wylan." Jesper turned away from the controls altogether then, away from the hypnotising swirl of hyperspace. "Is something bothering you?"

Wylan decided to tell the truth.

He held out the datapad. "My father sent me a message earlier."

Jesper took the datapad warily. "Your father? As in, the Imperial merchant-lord-person who helped fund that Death Star?"

Wylan nodded.

Jesper swore. "Force, Wylan - weren't you going to report this? Or just ignore it, maybe? I get why you didn't reply: they could track the signal. . ."

"I need you to read it for me."

Jesper blinked. "What?"

"I need you to read it to me. I can't read Basic - it's one of the things that my father. . . alienated. . . me for - so I don't know what's in it. But whatever it is, it has to be bad." He rubbed his forehead and tugged on his hair. "I know it'll be nothing good, but I want. . ." He trailed off.

"You want to know anyway," Jesper finished. Wylan nodded, tugging at his hair more.

Jesper's hand flew out to catch his wrist; Wylan froze, cheeks flushing. "Don't do that," Jesper chided. "You'll pull all your hair out. And I like your hair."

Wylan blinked, blushing even harder.

But the embarrassment didn't last long; as Jesper's eyes flitted across the text that scrolled across the screen, his face became exponentially more grave, and Wylan became exponentially more anxious.

"What does it say?"

Jesper pinched his lips together and shook his head. "I don't know if you should listen; it sounds like a pile of bantha poodoo to me-"

"What. Does. It. Say." Wylan didn't know where the hardness in his voice had come from but he was shaking. Shaking from head to toe. He clenched his fists to try and make it less evident.

Jesper said quietly, "He says he wants to defect."

Silence fell in the cockpit.

"What?" Wylan croaked.

Jesper's eyes flicked down to the screen when he couldn't hold Wylan's gaze any longer. "He says that he knows you were involved in the destruction of the Death Star - your codes were used to access Eadu - and having seen what the Empire was willing to do to the people who funded the project, he wishes to defect to the organisation that seems to be more morally sound. Also that he missed you," Jesper added. "You and your mother."

"He _killed_ my mother." Wylan was panting now. "He _killed_ her."

Jesper held up his hands, the datapad falling into his lap. "Hey, I'm just reading what he wrote. He says. . ." At this, Jesper swallowed. "He says he wants you to meet him at the Van Eck estate on Naboo with any Rebellion representatives you can persuade to come. He says he wants to divert a large chunk of the money he makes from the Empire away into the Rebellion's coffers - surreptitiously, of course, so the Emperor doesn't get suspicious."

Pain prickled in Wylan's palms; he uncurled his fists to see that he'd clenched them so hard red crescents were left where his fingernails had dug in. He didn't know what to say.

"Oh."

Jesper narrowed his eyes and folded his arms at that. " _Oh_? Can the trap _be_ more obvious?" He ticked the reasons off on his fingers. "He's asking you to meet him at a location _he_ controls, to bring _other_ Rebels, _and_ he just _admitted_ that the Empire knows you're with the Rebellion! They probably had him set up this trap! And if not," Jesper's voice softened, then. "If not, even if your father is sincere, then they're likely watching him anyway. They'll spot you immediately if you try to make contact with him."

"I know." Wylan's breathing was steadying now, but his heart was still racing. "I _know_ , damn it!"

He shouted the last words louder than he'd meant to. Jesper looked startled.

"I know," Wylan said, "that my father is bad news. I'm almost certain this message is insincere, or a trap of some sort. He had my mother _murdered_ , Jesper." Jesper flinched at that. "I could never prove it for certain, but I know that when she went through menopause, having only given him _me_ as a potential heir, he had her murdered so he could marry a girl barely older than I am.

"But he is my father," Wylan whispered. He leaned his face upwards as tears slid free from his eyes. "I want to love him. I want him to love me." He was openly crying now. "I want this _so much_. And if it's all a trap, if he betrays me. . ." He took a deep breath. "Then I want that opportunity for closure, too."

Jesper had just opened his mouth to say something, his expression thoughtful, when an alarm beeped behind him. Startled, he glanced over at the console.

"We're coming up on our destination," he said. Wylan hurriedly tried to wipe away his tears. "We should probably talk about this later; who knows how many Imps we'll find here." Wylan nodded his agreement as Jesper took a handle of the controls. "Reverting to realspace in three, two, one. . ."

The streaks around them became stars again as they hurtled into space above a planet with a pinkish-red atmosphere. Wylan gaped at it for a moment - were _those_ the lightning storms Jesper had mentioned? - then his awe turned to terror.

"Jesper," he said slowly, then his voice became a shriek, "Jesper!" He pointed out of the viewport. "What is that?"

Jesper followed his gaze, to the hunk of metal he was pointing to. _"Karabast,"_ he swore. "Is that-"

"It's a _lambda_ shuttle," Wylan said grimly. It was clearly in no shape to fly; it gave out no power or life readings, the hull was scorched and charred by lightning, and it had lost a wing, a door, and two repulsors.

"The one Inej and Kaz were flying?" Jesper asked. The fear in his voice implied he already knew the answer.

"I don't see how it could be anything else."

Jesper's brow furrowed. "Try to raise them on the comms," he said.

Wylan did. "There's no answer."

Jesper swore again. "Then I suppose we'll have to go down to the surface and see if they made it."

Wylan felt queasy - from the ruined ship, from the message - but he wouldn't let that shake his resolve. He wouldn't let _anything_ shake his resolve. "I suppose we will."

* * *

"I am _never_ ," Wylan swore, " _ever_ , flying through that atmosphere again."

"Well isn't that a shame, lordling," a rasping voice said. Wylan glanced behind him, past the ramp of the ship, to see Kaz limping towards them. Inej had already overtaken him, running at full pelt towards them. "Because this is where we're planning on setting up a new base."

"Technically, we have to scout out the place first," Nina drawled, holding up a hand to block the light as she and Kuwei descended the ramp. Kuwei's brown eyes were wide, staring - he seemed peculiarly and utterly out of his depth. Wylan empathised with him.

Inej missed Nina's sarcasm - missed it, or ignored it. "You have no idea." She shook her head. "This place is _perfect_. There's freshwater, plenty of shelter and food sources, even caves to hide rations in if things get hairy! _And_ there's a difficult atmosphere which TIE fighters can't penetrate. And the Empire won't be looking at it anymore - not since we ejected the ship into the atmosphere and let it be annihilated. They'll think we perished in the storms when they see it." She laughed to herself - a breathless laugh, full of delight, hope, and a smidgeon of relief. "I can't believe our luck."

"Oh," Jesper said, grinning, "so you _did_ intend to destroy your transport? We saw that on the way in; Wylan got a little nervous."

Wylan gritted his teeth. " _You_ were nervous as well, Jesper." He didn't know whether to laugh or scream when his voice came out annoyingly petulant.

"Nervous or not," Inej said. The beaming smile hadn't faded from her face; she was practically bouncing on the soles of her feet, "we did it. We have a base!" She turned her gaze back to the ship they'd brought.

Nina seemed to read her mind. She shifted her stance and folded her arms. "So this is where Matthias comes in handy," she mused. "We could use some heavy lifting."


	18. Episode XVIII

The Rebellion were efficient, leaving no job unfinished or stone unturned, but it still took them two whole weeks to be sure the system was clear of any Imperials and start sending in the big ships.

After that, it was at least another two weeks before they'd offloaded all of their supplies onto the surface (and got through the storms), so it was a little over a standard month later that the Rebel base was humming with life, electronic equipment set up, members of the cell settled, a peace that felt suspiciously like hope descending on the camp.

And it was amongst that hope that Kaz found Inej at nightfall, watching the starlight filter through the swirling storms above, lying next to a patch of candlewicks. The nocturnal flowers' buds were open, as they were every night, and the gold glow they gave off illuminated her luminous skin. She looked like a painting wrought in black and gold.

"Hey, Kaz," she greeted softly, even before he was in view. He supposed his gait was extremely recognisable. She patted the ground beside her. "Come sit."

He eased himself onto the grass next to her and squinted at the candlewicks. He'd only seen them once, when the Empire had decided to see how much money they could squeeze out of one Mid Rim planet by imposing massive taxes on everything, and he'd been paid to smuggle the weirdest things, including flowers. He was still bitter that a criminal client he'd given passage to once had found a starflower under his bunk.

"Why do you like candlewicks so much?" he asked without thinking. She'd never explicitly told him they were her favourite flowers, but over the years it'd been easy to guess. She loved candlewicks, was fascinated by them. Sometimes he'd walked in on her keeping vigil in the cockpit at night to see her asleep at the controls, a bouquet of glowing blossoms casting her face into shadow.

She sighed contently and let her head fall back against the stone of the rock they were leaning against, careful not to crush any of the blossoms. "When my mother was my age, she worked as a researcher. She went around to different worlds, assessing whether or not they deserved Legacy status, researching natural phenomena, plants, animals. But one day she was researching the Alderaanian wolf-cat on Appenza Peak when she fell. Thank the Force for her team members and Alderaan's amazing doctors; it is - _was_ ," she paused, voice strangled, "her homeworld. She had access to its phenomenal healthcare. Her heart and lungs had to be replaced by pulmonodes, but she survived."

Kaz didn't see how the story was quite related to candlewicks yet, but Inej was obviously in the moment. He let her keep talking.

"The thing is, pulmonodes have little orange indicator lights on them," she continued. "Most people get skin transplants or just spent ages in bacta to try and get the flesh to heal over until the light isn't visible. But my mother didn't bother with any of that. And when I was little and I had a nightmare and would huddle into her lap with my head against her chest, I liked to imagine that the glow shining around me came from a bouquet of candlewicks nestled in her heart."

Inej's face was still limned in golden light, and Kaz's heart lurched at the realisation that he couldn't stop looking at her, her features soft with memory, skin literally aglow. She'd always had that strange magnetism about her: he couldn't stop looking, couldn't stay away.

He hated it.

He was honest enough to admit to himself that when she'd come to the cantina to hire him all those months ago, he hadn't offered to reduce his price because of whatever favours he owed her - although there were many. Too many to count. He'd bought and freed her from slavery, yet somehow _he_ was so indebted to _her_.

Why had he said he'd lowered the price? _Because it's you._ It was true. He'd looked at her job offer, the chance to see her again, and jumped at it. He'd been unwilling to make her walk away by demanding too high a cost.

"Do you miss your mother?" The question slipped out, unbidden. He hated this lack of control of his - he got it around Jesper as well, where his curiosity about a person who was. . . _useful_. . . to him overcame his reservations. His hesitation. His _common sense_.

"Yes," Inej replied, as he'd expected. Kaz released a breath. Of course she did. Kaz was the anomaly - Kaz was the one too consumed by the urge for revenge to truly mourn the person he'd lost. _Pekka will pay_ , he vowed to himself habitually. _Brick by brick_.

"I miss my father, too," she continued. "He was a clone who was decommissioned early on in the Clone Wars, and I worry about what the accelerated aging all clones went through did to him. He's probably an old man by now." She opened her eyes to gaze up at the sky; Kaz could see stars and galaxies reflected in her irises. He looked away quickly.

"He was a clone?" he asked, trying to distract himself.

She nodded, gaze still faraway. "It's part of the reason I'm so good at blending into crowds - the clones' facial features were known all across the galaxy, and because there's some aspect of that in my face, I look familiar and ordinary no matter where I go. My father taught me how to fight and spy - his was a recon unit, I think - and my mother taught me how to fly." She frowned. "They'd told me to wait in the ship, the day the slavers took me. But I was fourteen and curious, and I wanted to see the spaceport. It was a mistake."

"Do you think they're still alive?" The question slipped out again; Kaz cursed himself. _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

"They're alive," Inej said with a fervent certainty that made Kaz wonder if she didn't have the Force after all, if she was so sure of something like this. "They'll have survived. I know it. My mother's probably grieving the relatives she lost on Alderaan." Her face fell. "I don't know how to find them."

"It's a big galaxy," Kaz agreed.

"A massive galaxy." Inej sighed. "Everywhere I go, I try to surreptitiously stretch out feelers, looking for them. But the Rebellion comes first. It has to always come first."

Inej's parents had been smugglers when she was a child, Kaz remembered. She'd offered it up as an explanation for how she got so good at it so quickly. During the Clone Wars and the early days of the Empire, they'd had to become smugglers to keep food on the table for their little girl.

"I'll help you find them," he promised. This time, he did think through what he was saying. He said it anyway. Inej's spirit was a bright and brilliant thing - it deserved to be protected.

Inej smiled at him and, after a moment's hesitation, he smiled back. They sat like that for a long time, watching the storms rage above them and feeling, for the first time in a long while, _safe_.

(The next morning, Inej would wake to find a vase of candlewicks on the shelf of her and Nina's dormitory. Her friend would keep grumbling about how a strange light had kept her awake, but Inej wouldn't be able to stop smiling.)

* * *

Jesper was waiting in the cockpit of the _Barrel_ for Kaz to return from. . . wherever he'd gone that night. . . when he noticed movement beyond the viewports.

A flash of gold hair, the timid gait, like he was worried someone might notice him. . .

Jesper was out of the cockpit and down the boarding ramp before he could think. "Wylan?"

The lordling froze, then whirled around, a blush staining his cheeks even in the dim light. Jesper frowned at him. Did he look nervous? Afraid?

Guilty?

"You're going to visit your father," he said, clarity dawning.

Wylan's silence was damning.

Jesper sighed. "Come inside."

They had a brief but intense standoff, glaring at each other until Wylan finally acquiesced and followed him up the ramp. Jesper had made sure they were safely in the living area before he said, "I'm coming with you."

Wylan gaped. "You-"

"I want an adventure. In case you haven't noticed, I'm kind of reckless. And going up against an Imperial lord on his own territory?" He tried for a grin. "Sounds like my kind of odds."

"Okay." Something had lit up in Wylan's face; as the seconds ticked by, Jesper watched it grow and grow. It looked suspiciously like hope. _Force, I sound like Kaz._ "Okay. We'll need to head off now if we're gonna make it to the rendezvous in time. We need a ship."

"We have one." Jesper patted the dejarik table. "Just don't tell Kaz."

"Too late," a gravelly voice interrupted them. Jesper jumped out of his skin and turned to see Kaz standing near the entrance, weight shifted onto his good leg, eyebrow raised to his hairline. "What do you think you're doing, Jesper? Lordling?" He turned his cutting gaze on Wylan.

The kid proved to have more guts than Jesper had given him credit for. He raised his chin and set his jaw. It was clear he wasn't going to tell Kaz anything. _But is it courage or shame that's driving him?_

Jesper didn't have any space to judge, he supposed. He cracked within the second.

"Wylan received a message from his father saying he wanted to defect so we're flying the ship to the assigned rendezvous." Jesper took a deep breath. _That's the hard part over with, then_. But no: actually, there was someone he didn't want finding out about this more than Kaz. Someone whom he actually respected, and who he wanted to respect him in return. "I don't suppose you could not tell Inej this?"

"Bit late for that."

Jesper actually screamed as he whirled round this time, various expletives spitting from his mouth. Inej stood behind the dejarik table, arms crossed and eyebrow raised in an eerie imitation of Kaz's pose. Her dark hair was knotted into a crown of braids around her head - _t_ _hey look Alderaanian_ , he observed - and among them nestled a gold, glowing flower head.

Somehow, she was on the opposite side of the room without having been spotted by either him or Wylan. And that would've been fine - impressive, but not insulting. She was known as the Wraith for a reason.

But with a glowing flower in her hair?

Seriously?

"Let me get this straight," Inej said slowly. "Wylan's father sent him a message conveying his intention to defect to the Rebellion along with coordinates for a meeting point for the two of them to discuss it." She pinched her lips together. "A rich Imperial merchant wants to defect. It seems too good to be true."

Kaz shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "And when something's too good to be true. . ."

". . .it usually is," Inej finished. She paused, then grimaced at herself. "Even so. I _really_ want it to be true." She added, more gently, to Wylan, "I'm sure you do, too." She shook her head. "But you can't go in there."

"You're saying the odds are too great," Wylan said dejectedly. The expression on his face was what spurred Jesper into speaking up.

"Never tell me the odds." When Inej looked at him, he said passionately, "If you think we're going to pass up this opportunity-"

"You misunderstand me."

Inej looked solemn. Kaz raised his eyebrows again - that seemed to be his thing today. "Look at you, Inej. Being a responsible leader and Rebel captain-"

"Shut up." She didn't spare him a glance, instead focusing on Wylan and Jesper. "The odds are too great, yes. But when you can't beat the odds. . ."

It was Kaz who finished the saying - a saying that was so rampant among smugglers Jesper was momentarily surprised Inej knew it. But she'd been a smuggler once as well. "Change the game."

Wylan still looked confused. "What does that mean?"

But now Kaz had the tilt to his mouth that passed for a smile. He looked at Inej with the same raw tenderness he always seemed to - well, what _tenderness_ meant when applied to Kaz Brekker - but there was cunning as well. Cunning, slyness - his magician's mind was hard at work, and there was no stopping it now. "She means we don't play by Van Eck's rules. What did your father's message say?"

"To meet him at the lake retreat - Varykino - on Naboo three days from today. Evening, local time." Wylan swallowed. "It's about a two day hyperspace trip."

Kaz tapped his chin. "Naboo is the Emperor's homeworld, correct?" Everyone nodded. "So it's undoubtably crawling with Imperials even _without_ the extra contacts he might have pulled in."

"So?" Wylan lifted his chin.

"So there'll be a lot of cannon fodder." Kaz barely blinked at the prospect, though Inej frowned disapprovingly. "Where is your family's retreat?"

"In the grasslands. Lakelands? The Lake Country." Wylan swallowed. "But it's not ours. It's a holiday home - we rent it out sometimes, but it's also rented out to other families when they pay for it."

"Grasslands," Inej mused. "Are the grasses tall enough to hide a sniper?"

"No," Wylan replied, "but the waterfalls could potentially provide cover, if only because the mist sprays out so thickly - there're even legends about a water monster haunting the area, because of the way shapes seem to move under the water. The local people are used to it by now." Silence fell when he stopped talking. "Or you could hide behind a shaak," he added sourly at their neutral expressions.

Sour or not, it seemed to spark Kaz's interest. "Shaaks?" He furrowed his brow. "Shaak-farming. . . What other local industries are there?"

Wylan shrugged. "It's the most isolated part of Naboo. Other than holiday-makers, there's only farmers, shaak-herders and glass craftworkers out there."

"Alright." Inej had shifted her stance; she and Kaz were once again matching eager bookends. "Tell us about Varykino."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, there's fanart for Inej in this chapter [here](https://spell-cleaver.tumblr.com/post/176742537344/inejs-face-was-still-limned-in-golden-light-and)


	19. Episode XIX

"I already know that lightsabers are powered by kyber crystals," Kuwei huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Nina sighed. Despite his family's legacy in scientific research and discovery, the kid seemed to have very little tolerance for _learning._ He was better at breaking things with the Force than doing. . . well, anything else with it. It was like he'd used up what little reserves of patience he'd had when he was imprisoned, and now he was loathe to sit still.

He didn't even know that much about kyber crystals. All of what he knew had come from listening in on his father's research, which was just as much fiction as it was fact.

"Yes," Nina said irritably, "but do you know anything _else_ about them?"

Kuwei said snippily, "I didn't realise there was anything else to know."

Had Nina ever been this insolent? Zoya would have really hated that. . .

She grimaced. It was a silly question: Zoya _had_ hated her at first. And insolence was practically her middle name. _I guess the Force is giving me my long overdue payback._

"I mean, they're probably all gone now because of the Empire, anyway."

Nina breathed in.

Breathed out.

_The Force is a bitch._

"We're done for today," Nina said decisively, standing up from the table. She got no protests from Kuwei as she strode out into the grasslands the base was established on. The sun was setting, and the reddish tint to the light, when filtered through the purple storms above, bathed everything in a bloody burgundy.

She was tense enough as it was without Kuwei fraying her nerves. They'd all seen the _Barrel_ leave the system early that morning. She hadn't seen Kaz or Jesper since, though she _had_ seen Inej.

Her friend had looked tired, with heavy purple rings around her eyes. Apparently she'd been up all night planning some mission.

And sure, maybe Kaz and Jesper had gone on said mission, but. . . Nina couldn't help but worry they'd abandoned them - _again_ \- and Inej was just too tired to process it.

Perhaps it was an absurd notion, but it gnawed at her all the same. An if it was true, if Kaz Brekker had left Inej behind _again_. . .

Well.

She was going to kill that sleemo.

She glanced at the sky again, at the way the burgundy was sliding into the indigo spectrum. She had a shift in the early hours of the next morning; she should probably head to her and Inej's dorm to get some sleep. At least there were pillows to punch in there.

But, of course, that plan had to get derailed pretty quickly.

"What do you want, Zoya?" she said tiredly, flopping onto her bunk. Her dead master arched an elegant eyebrow from where she was perched on Inej's bed. _Strange_ , Nina thought, _that Force ghosts can interact with their surroundings when ordinary ghosts can't._

A pause.

_Not that real ghosts exist._

Another pause.

_I really need sleep._

"Focus, Nina," Zoya snapped. "And stop worrying about your friend; she's resilient. If the smuggler has left, she'll get over it. It's probably the best thing for her. I'm here to talk about the lightsabers you retrieved from Genya."

Nina quirked an eyebrow in response to Zoya's raised one. Any given conversation between them seemed to be a battle of the eyebrows.

"Oh," she said, "so you're actually going to explain yourself? ' _Something I buried long ago'_." She snorted. "You could've been a bit more precise. Vagueness doesn't help anyone."

"But it's entertaining watching you struggle." Zoya said with a perfectly straight face. Nina blinked. Did she just- "And I can't explain why you needed to retrieve the lightsabers. I just know that you did. The Force works in strange ways."

Nina could have pressed the question. She could have kept poking, kept prodding, kept insisting more answers. It worked on most people.

But she knew that it didn't work on Zoya.

Instead, she said, "I didn't know white lightsabers existed."

She supposed her pink lightsaber was equally unorthodox, but this seemed different. The lightsaber crystals. . .

When she'd lit the twin blades, alone in the solitude of her dormitory, the purest light had bathed the room. They were a bright, brilliant white; two identical sunbeams caught and wielded by a warrior of Light. She'd wrapped her hands around the hilts, expecting to hear that peaceful song the crystals in all Jedi lightsabers sang.

Only their song wasn't of peace. It was of redemption.

"Alina's are the only ones," Zoya admitted, then answered the question Nina had really been asking: "The way they were made was. . . unusual. When Alina was first discovered by the Jedi, she was seventeen years old. She lived on a desert planet in the Inner Rim, Jakku, with a fellow scavenger - Mal, I believe his name was; I think he made her a music box purely out of pieces of scrap metal once - and it was honestly only chance that led to us finding her. I was chasing a Sith Lord I'd encountered - the first Sith Lord that had been encountered in hundreds of years, might I add - and when both our ships crashed on the planet, I was lucky enough to crash near Alina, who helped me get it fixed."

Zoya's eyes were vague, distant - she was looking into the past, and could no more see Nina than Nina could witness events that had occurred before she was born.

"In person, Alina's power in the Force was like a star. It was impossible to miss. I didn't miss it, and the Sith Lord didn't either. And I was lucky again that day, because Alina sided with me against the Sith, and we won. Alina took the crystals from the Sith Lord's double-bladed lightsaber.

"You have to understand," Zoya elaborated, "that kyber crystals are naturally aligned to the Light Side of the Force, and in their natural state don't produce red blades. The Sith steal them from Jedi and have to corrupt them to make them serve their will. And Alina - somehow - managed to reverse what the Sith Lord had done to his. She healed them.

"So her blades are white."

"An exceptional Jedi," Nina drawled, "healed two lost causes. _Believed_ in two lost causes. The Chosen One, the Hero With No Fear. . . A Sith Lord." She scoffed. "I guess things rarely go quite the way we expect."

There had to be more to the story. The way Zoya told it, it was a fairy tale - _Alina_ was a fairy tale. The magical power of good versus evil, redemption, and magic space orphans, with no _emotion_ behind it. Well, Nina had _fought_ a fucking Sith Lord, and it didn't matter whether you had one or two magic space orphans on your side, that shit was _terrifying_. Having the upper hand didn't make it any less so.

But Zoya never seemed able to comprehend that other people's emotions and motivations were just as complex and layered as her own. So Nina didn't bother asking.

Zoya's attention had drifted again. She was already fading from view as she said, "No." She was almost gone when she breathed out, "Things never do."

* * *

"You contacted me, General?" Inej stood in the debriefing room with her hands folded behind her back, jacket bunching up under her arms.

Tamar's golden eyes were fierce, a frown carving furrows between her brows and lines into her cheeks. "Yes," she said, forehead still screwed up in thought. Then her brow cleared, and she gave Inej her undivided attention. "I need you to lead a squadron of X-wings on a mission outside of the system."

It was Inej's turn to frown now. "Lead a squadron? General, I'm not a-"

"You blew up the Death Star, Inej," Tamar said dryly. "You're the most qualified pilot on the planet."

Then she turned towards the holographic projector and switched it on. The circular device - Inej had always thought it looked somewhat like a sundial - displayed a star map, which Tamar studied intensely before zooming in on a particular cluster of systems.

"Tolya tells me his ships have had trouble passing through the Mandalore sector, and he's commissioning an envoy to speak to one of the systems there and convince them to join our cause." Tamar's fingers drummed against the edge of the projector as she zoomed in on one star system. "More specifically, the star system of Concord Dawn. If we're successful, hopefully they'll allow passage through the system and we can use it to travel through. If the mission is successful, you'll be called back to Starkiller Base. If not, Tolya will give you additional orders."

Inej raised an eyebrow. "Starkiller Base? You named our base after Koroleva?"

"You have objections?" Tamar's voice was forcibly neutral.

Inej shrugged. "Seems like a bit of a kick to morale, to be honest."

"Maybe," Tamar said, a smile playing on her lips, "but very few people know about the connection between the Knight Alina Starkiller and the Sith Lord Darth Koroleva. If anything, bringing back memories of the Jedi will _boost_ morale. And if our base is found again, as annoyed as I'll be. . ." She grinned to herself. "At least I'll know that the name of it really pissed Alina off."

Inej couldn't help but grin herself. "Fair enough." Then she turned back to the star chart. "If they're in the Mandalore sector," she said slowly, "what allegiance do they have to Mandalore itself? And are they loyal to the Empire now occupying their homeworld?"

"It's a Mandalorian colony," Tamar said. "As for their allegiances, well, that's what we intend to find out." She moved her fingers deftly across the controls, the image in the holo shifting to be viewed from a different angle. A dotted green flight path blinked into existence. "And it's another reason we want you to go as Flight Leader. Mandalorian culture respects strength. You're not only the Wraith: you blew up the Death Star. They'll respect you." A moment, then she added with humour, "I'm sure my brother's pilots will be dying to meet you as well."

Inej crossed her arms and studied the star map. "There's more to it than that, though."

If Tamar was surprised at her perceptiveness, she didn't show it. Inej didn't think she was, anyway. Being perceptive was her _job_. "We also want you to keep an eye on that man in your crew - Matthias Helvar. He's Mandalorian, isn't he? He'll go with you."

Inej raised an eyebrow. "You don't trust him?"

"He's an Imperial defector," Tamar explained, without looking up from the holo. The light painted blue and green lines on her tan face, harsh cheekbones standing out stark. "And while Van Eck's loyalty seems to be assured by now, I don't know if Helvar's here because he believes in the Alliance, or because his young charge does. And if he's going to an Imperial occupied world, I'd rather not take that risk."

"Why would my going along on the trip change anything?"

"He knows you." Tamar's voice managed to be hard and soft at the same time - hard in that her words were implacable, unrelenting; soft in that the truth of them, the truth of human nature, seemed precious. "He's fought alongside you; you've won his respect. And if not, then you've come closer to doing it than the rest of us. It'll be harder for him to betray a friend than an unfamiliar callsign."

Inej took a deep breath at the truth of it. She believed he was with them - didn't believe Matthias would sell them out - but she could see where Tamar was coming from. Knew the measures she had to take to keep them all safe.

"All right," Inej said, shifting her stance. She uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. "I'll tell Matthias. He's already annoyed we sent Wylan off on the mission to Naboo without him."

Tamar nodded, her eyes drawn back to the star map. She'd zoomed out again, and now she was staring at the entire galaxy in one image. Concord Dawn was marked in yellow, while their current base was in green. The significant Imperial bases were marked in red. The red pins swarmed the other colours; the two systems shone amongst the sea of crimson, like pearls among pebbles.

_Or like sparrows among sparrow-hawks._

"Concord Dawn's on the other side of the galaxy from us," Inej observed. "We'll need to leave soon to get to General Kul-Bataar's fleet in time."

Maybe she _should_ take up Tamar's request to refer to them by their first names out loud, Inej thought at the look the General shot her. They were both generals, both their names ended in "Bataar"; it would probably be easier.

"Then you'd better leave immediately," was all Tamar said.

* * *

Naboo looked as beautiful as ever, its lakes and grasslands pristine. Wylan knew that they weren't exempt from the Empire's tyranny, that Morozova exerted fear to control them - the _threat_ of destruction, rather than destruction itself - but it was still difficult not to be bitter.

"The time for the rendezvous is tomorrow at sundown, correct?" Kaz asked him. Wylan got the sense that the smuggler didn't really need confirmation, but he nodded anyway.

"Yes," he said aloud, eyeing the magenta stain the sinking sun painted on the atmosphere. "But we'll need time to set up our contingency plan, won't we? I don't want to walk in there and-"

"None of us do, lordling," Kaz said flatly. "I'm only here because it's my ship you're taking - the Rebellion don't want any of _their_ ships potentially falling into Imperial hands, lest they learn something from it - but Inej would kill me if I let the only actual member of the Rebellion on this mission die."

Wylan swallowed nervously, more focused on the prospect of his (potentially) imminent capture and interrogation, but Jesper, seated in the pilot's seat, frowned.

"Kaz," he said slowly, " _I_ want to be a member of the Rebellion."

Something in Wylan's chest loosened at the words, but Kaz barely blinked; he just cast his partner an irritated glance. "So? That's your choice. If you want to get yourself killed, I won't stop you."

Was this the sort of power Kaz's words had held over Inej before she left? Wylan wondered as he saw the hurt flit across Jesper's face. If so, no wonder Nina seemed so ill-disposed towards the smuggler - so protective of her friend.

Jesper said quietly, "You don't understand. I want to still be your partner. But I want to be a Rebel as well."

Kaz's head slowly turned to face him. "You want me to join the Rebellion." It was a statement. An interpretation of Jesper's halting words.

The pilot nodded mutely.

Kaz sighed, and a look crossed his face that told Wylan think he was thinking about Inej. Inej and Jesper seemed to be the only people he gave a damn about; Wylan had learned to discern purely from his facial features which he was thinking of when his face went soft.

The ship shuddered as they landed on the hills of Naboo's Lake Country, the grass green and vibrant. Kaz shook his head, and whatever gentleness he'd been harbouring was gone.

"We'll talk about this later," he dismissed, though his dark eyes lingered on Jesper for a moment. "Until then, you know the plan?"

Jesper reached for the blaster that had been sitting in the co-pilot's seat for most of the flight. His hand caressed the unusually long barrel - Wylan was by no means an expert on blasters, but that looked like it was set in the sniper configuration - before coming round to grip it properly. He raised the sights to his eye and peered through.

Beyond the ship's viewport, a lone shaak ambled past.

"Yes," Jesper said. "I do."


	20. Episode XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should address the fact that the chapters these past few weeks have, on average, been shorter than the ones in Part I. There is a reason for that. I won't be able to write regularly, or at all, for the next few weeks, and while I have some of the story as fodder before I reach the end of what I've written, I'm concerned I'll run through all of it before I have the time to write again, so the chapters are shorter so I can continue updating quite frequently.
> 
> Also, I'm an idiot and have divided the story into another part, so there's a Part III as well as Parts I and II, despite the fact I said there wouldn't be. I've changed the name of Part II to Jedi-Killer, since I think it's probably more apt.
> 
> Anyway, on with the story!

After her conversation with Zoya, Nina found herself thinking about the music box she'd filched from Genya. Alone in her dormitory again and at a loose end, she couldn't quite stop herself from digging it out of her satchel and opening the lid.

The tune that played when she did was simple in a melancholy sort of way. A child's mourning song.

The song ended, and Nina frowned. Closed the box, opened it again. Listened to the song intently, like its notes held the answers she sought.

After the fifth repeat, she shut the box halfway through the tune and studied its shiny exterior.

_He made her a music box purely out of pieces of scrap metal, once_.

Was this the box Zoya had described? Its outside was scuffed and worn by hands and sand, but it was clearly comprised of metal parts. And the irregularity of the structure, the variation in extent of corrosion. . . It seemed to be _scrap_ metal in particular.

And touching it, Nina felt. . . Sadness.

Loneliness.

_No_ , she realised, three fingers resting on the top of it and feeling the metal surface suck the heat from her skin. Grief.

She shoved the box away from her like it stung.

Eyeing it nervously, she took a shaky breath and buried her head in her hands.

What was she doing? This was Alina Starkiller's past she was digging into - _Darth Koroleva's_. Why would she want to understand what drove the monster forward, what had made her _into_ that monster? Defeating an enemy by understanding them was never an ideology the Jedi had preached; they had banned all research teams from venturing into Sith temples for that very reason.

If she understood Koroleva - empathised with Koroleva, _sympathised_ with her - how was she supposed to strike the killing blow, when the time came?

Because that was what she was doing, Nina realised suddenly, with no small amount of horror. Sympathising. Nina Zenik was, by nature, a very social person. Being as lonely as Starkiller must have been for so long while on Jakku, relying on one other person to survive in the harsh desert, then losing that person? It was enough to drive anyone to desperate measures.

It wasn't an excuse. But it was an explanation.

And Nina remembered the horror she'd felt after Order Sixty-Six, after the Jedi Purges, alone, with no one but her master to guide her.

And when Koroleva had killed Zoya?

She would have burned the galaxy to ashes and dust if it meant Koroleva would burn as well. Perhaps the hardest part was admitting that she still would. _Revenge is not the Jedi way_.

It scared Nina just how dark her thoughts had become before she'd met Inej. Inej, who was cut up and shaken by her own experiences. Inej, who needed Nina perhaps as much as Nina needed her. They'd saved each other.

Why could she not keep herself tethered to the Light on her own accord? Why was it always a person who kept her there? First Zoya, then Inej, and now - and here she swallowed a little - maybe Matthias as well.

He'd challenged her, made her think of the different points of view in the world. And while his wasn't right - as right as it could be considering the lies he'd been told, but still _wrong_ \- it had made her develop her own. Apart from the Jedi.

And her (admittedly limited) point of view was this:

Alina Starkiller had fallen to the Dark Side because of grief. But grief did not inherently cause Jedi to Turn. Grief was a natural part of life; it was only as powerful as the joy and love - the _Light Side_ aspects - that it came hand and hand with.

Why had Nina not Turned after Zoya died? Why, if she was so _angry_ and _hurt_ and _lost_ , had she not become the very thing she'd sworn to destroy?

Because of Inej.

Because Nina had had Inej to support her. Inej to support her, and an obligation to protect. Nina and Inej's relationship had kept both of them out of the pits of despair, and catapulted them into the Rebellion, where they belonged.

Considering the Jedi Council's ultimatum to _bury your feelings deep down_ and _let go of all you fear to lose_ , it was. . . unlikely. . . Alina had had a luxury like that.

And Nina was sure the Jedi had been wrong. As someone who'd been there before and crawled her way back to the Light, she _knew_ they had been wrong.

Staring at the music box, she only wished she had an idea of what to do with the knowledge.

* * *

They were coming close to the Concord Dawn system, and Matthias wasn't finished sulking when he heard Inej's voice echo over the internal comms. _"All wings, report in."_

_"Green Two, standing by."_

_"Green Three, standing by."_

"Green Four, standing by," Matthias huffed, scrunching up his nose in a grimace.

This was a bad idea. No, scratch that: it was an _appalling_ idea. But when he'd tried to raised the point with Inej, he'd just told her to take it up with General Kir-Bataar, and, despite his newfound conviction to help the Rebels, he got the sense he was walking on thin ice with _her_.

The rest of the squadron chimed in with their affirmations, and the envoy General Kul-Bataar had assigned - Matthias couldn't remember his name - said, "Alright, team, we just need you to stay in tight formation around the main transport. A show of strength to impress them, and to also protect us if they prove hostile. Otherwise, _do not engage the fighters_."

_"Affirmative,"_ Inej confirmed among the ripple of other voices. Matthias breathed in, then breathed out. He didn't know what they hoped to gain by this mission - not only would the Mandalorians not join their cause, but nor would they take kindly to _his_ presence in their system.

_"Coming out on hyperspace now."_

Concord Dawn was a striking planet, with almost a third of its mass blasted into space to form its planetary rings and moons. And approaching them from one of those moons was an escort of starfighters.

The stars had barely finished forming when Matthias heard the voice spit over the comms, _"Attention, unregistered ships. This is Jarl Brum, Protector of Concord Dawn. You are trespassing. Identify yourselves."_

_Jarl Brum._ Matthias's heart stopped in his chest. _No_.

"Inej. . ." He began to say, but she shushed him as the envoy spoke up.

_"We come in peace, Protector."_

_"I'm not familiar with the word,"_ Brum replied. He sounded exactly as he had when he'd trained Matthias for the Imperial forces. _Peace is a lie the weak use to control the strong._ A true Mandalorian, he liked to call himself. _"State your mission."_

Even as the envoy drew in a breath to answer, Matthias knew it was over. Brum was loyal to the Empire - he respected its strength and its ruthlessness with a fascism that Matthias had once admired - and there was no way. . .

_"We request safe passage through your system."_

_"Safe passage for whom?"_

There was a pause, as even the envoy considered his words, and then-

_"Representatives,"_ the envoy said, _"of the Alliance to Restore the Republic."_

Matthias would have closed his eyes in defeat had he not wanted to avoid a collision.

_"So_ you're _the Rebels I've heard so much about."_ Brum's voice was cuttingly gleeful. _"How unfortunate for you."_ He would rip them to shreds and enjoy doing it. _"Squadron, lock S-foils in attack formation."_ Matthias knew he left the comlink on just to strike fear into their hearts. _"Annihilate the trespassers."_

_"Green Squadron, take evasive action!"_ Inej shouted, and Matthias hastened to obey as one of the ships flew straight for him. Its wings behaved differently to those of the X-wing he was flying; wide and flat, they whipped round the cockpit of the fighter as it flew, spitting blasts out of their pointed tips. Matthias recognised the designs from when Brum had been teaching him.

Inej was still trying for diplomacy. She activated the comlink and pleaded into it, _"Please, Protector, we come in peace!"_ And then she said the words that sealed her fate. _"We're here with your comrade, fellow Mandalorian, Matthias Helvar!"_

Matthias felt dread settle in his stomach. He could practically sense Brum's sharp eyes honing in on his fighter, recognising the flight style, the way it moved, the golden tints of his hair barely visible past the viewport.

_"Matthias Helvar,"_ Brum said slowly, _"is a traitor to the Empire, and to Mandalore. As are you, Rebel."_ Matthias's fists clenched the controls tighter. _"And your fates will be exactly the same."_

Inej abandoned diplomacy. _"Squadron, lock S-foils in attack formation-"_

Brum's language was simpler. Harsher.

_"Protectors,"_ he said. _"Kill them."_

The starfighters flew at them, hungry for blood, and the battle commenced.

* * *

The sun was setting over the hills when Wylan finally paddled over the lake to where Varykino sat on the island in the centre. He was just early enough to (hopefully) catch his father off guard, but he knew it ultimately wouldn't make a difference.

If their plan failed, he was doomed.

His unusually grim finally thought was that he only hoped he died before betraying the Alliance's secrets.

His father was waiting for him on the terrace of the manor house, easily seen from all across the lake. He appeared to be alone.

Wylan's heart contracted as he looked at him. His father looked older than when they'd last met, his hairline receding further and further, that cold, cunning look in his eyes tempered to something more akin to worry. Nervousness.

Nervousness wasn't suspicious in and of itself, but his father was Jan Van Eck. He was never nervous. Maybe he was serious about this meeting, maybe he genuinely wanted to defect. . .

_Or maybe he's just a phenomenal actor trying to get you to lower your guard._

His father's eyes scanned the water until they came to rest on Wylan, who made no attempt to mask his approach. His face slackened for a moment, then froze into a neutral expression. Wylan couldn't tell what he was thinking as he stepped up and ascended the stairs to the terrace.

Then he was standing in front of his father again, and he felt like they'd never been apart. It felt exactly the same.

Exactly the same height difference between them, imbalance of power: Wylan having to look up to meet his father's eye.

Exactly the same fear in his stomach, his throat; the same pressure behind his eyes; the same rigidness to his spine.

And exactly the same look of disgust twisting his father's handsome features into ugliness.

"You wished to defect, Father?" Wylan said quietly. He knew the truth - had _always_ known it, a part of him cried out - but he needed this validation. Needed to hear it from the man's lips.

His father's tone of voice transcended disgust. The concept of hatred quailed before the pure venom in the words that came next.

"I wished to see just how much of a simpleton my _son_ really was."

Movement behind him, the whirring of a blaster, then a _BANG_.

Hot blood drenched his side. Hot tears drenched his face.

His father had set him up, he processed dimly through a haze of red. His hope and faith had done nothing to change the most reliable fact of his life.

His father hated him.

The pain came later. The pain came through the ringing in his ears, through the sensory deprivation tank he'd been plunged in. An agony the likes of which a sheltered lordling like himself had never experienced, the blaster shot to his side burning into him, past him, _through_ him, his vision blurring and his head spinning. . .

He forced his chin up. Tears obscured his vision, but behind his father's grinning face he could make out four white shapes. Stormtroopers. Four stormtroopers. Kaz's count had been accurate.

Wylan let his chin drop again. _I guess now I know the truth._

His father - because, despite everything, he couldn't stop himself from thinking of him as _his father_ \- crouched in front of him, gripping his face roughly and forcing him to look at him. "Where are the other Rebels?" Gone was the nervous expression; gone were the frantic looks. It had all been a lie.

With his father, it always was.

He wheezed past the pain. "There are. . . no Rebels. . . on Naboo."

His father's face contorted into a snarl. "You're going to die, boy," he promised, "but if you don't tell us what we want to know, it will be neither quick nor painless. Now," he tightened his grip on his face, " _where are the Rebels_."

"The Rebellion," Wylan gasped out, "will not be intimidated by you."

_"Tell me!"_

"There are no Rebels on Naboo," he repeated. His voice grew stronger with every truth told. "Only criminal, lowlife scum." _Smugglers_ , Wylan thought, with no small amount of fondness.

"That's exactly what the Rebels are!" Each word was punctuated by a smack, and he felt bruises begin to blossom on his face. His father was apoplectic by now; he glared at Wylan, a vein throbbing in his forehead. There was fear in his voice. Fear of the Empire, of failing the Emperor again - exactly the way his pet Death Star project had.

He looked at Wylan, and the hatred was palpable.

Wylan closed his eyes. His father hated him. It was a simple truth, but not easy to cling to.

What was easier to cling to was this: Wylan didn't hate his father. He opened his eyes, and met his father's gaze. Identical blue eyes met - eyes inherited, eyes shared.

Despite everything, he still loved him.

Despite everything, Wylan still said to his father, "I'm sorry."

Then the shot rang out.

The stormtroopers fell first. Smart - Jesper was smart with his blaster bolts. Take out the armed ones first, then go for the big guns. They died quickly.

Wylan pushed himself up onto his knees as his father stood up straight and backed off - unintentionally making himself a larger target, an easier target, as he moved away from the one person Jesper didn't want to hit.

The crimson bolt hit Jan Van Eck in the centre of his chest. Wylan knew that, as long as he lived, he would never forget the sickening _squelch_ of it burrowing into his heart, sealing his fate, making him collapse onto the hard marble tiling. Nor would he forget the stuttering rasp of his last breath as he died.

" _Murderer. . ._ " he choked at Wylan, then twitched for the last time, and grew still.

Wylan forced himself to his feet, then blacked out and collapsed again.

He returned to consciousness to the sensation of being dragged across dewy grass, and the sounds of Jesper's struggling grunts.

"The plan. . . worked. . . then?"

"Like a charm," Jesper quipped, but he was a little too breathless for it to come off as entirely blasé. "You were right: people are so used to weird shapes under the water they never consider someone might be swimming there. And no one cares about shaaks. They're massive, lumbering orange _things_ which are too stupid to do anything but get in the way. But they're definitely easy to hide behind." Wylan could _hear_ the grin in his voice. "Easy to sneak up on places with."

"Yeah. . ." Wylan said on a sigh, then gasped as the movement aggravated his blaster wound.

He felt them stop moving as Jesper halted, then peeled back his jacket to inspect the injury.

"Shit, Wylan," Jesper cursed. "We need to get you some treatment before that goes septic."

"What about. . . the Empire?"

"Kaz is taking care of it," the smuggler answered, even as blasterfire echoed over the lake, and return fire rattled in response. "He's got our backs."

"I'm sure." Wylan tried to open his eyes again and succeeded on focusing on Jesper's worried face, looming above him like one of Naboo's moons. And behind him, a shadow, like the dark side of that moon. Humanoid in shape, it crouched on the roof of the manor and watched them as they departed. "Jesper, there's a-"

"Save your strength." Jesper's grip on his arms tightened, and then he'd swung him up into his arms. _I'm being carried,_ Wylan dimly registered. _Bridal style. By Jesper._

He kind of liked it.

"Kaz will take care of everything."


	21. Episode XXI

"What the _kriff_ was that?" a pilot shouted at Matthias in the hangar. He let her shout; shaken and terrified, he felt like shouting himself. "You were supposed to be there to _keep_ the peace, not _annihilate_ it!"

"Pilot," Inej tried.

"And you just _sat there_ after they attacked; those pilots who moved to cover you were my _friends_ , and they _died_ because you-"

" _Pilot_ ," Inej repeated, more forcefully. She caught the woman's arm and made her face her. "You need some rest. It was a traumatic experience for all of us."

The woman nodded, and tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. Perhaps it was Inej's status as Flight Leader, or perhaps it was the fact she'd destroyed the Death Star, but the pilot respected her enough to heed her words. She walked away quietly,

Her face had been soft as she addressed the pilot, but when she looked at him, she had no mercy. "What happened out there? We almost didn't get away - they ripped us apart. Pilots _lost their lives_ on what was supposed to be a _peaceful_ mission."

He fought the urge to cower; despite her diminutive stature Inej had a way of making her displeasure clear and terrifying. "I don't know."

"You're a traitor?"

"I _defected_ , Inej." He said the words slowly - he found it was the first time he'd actually said them aloud. "That's treason."

She sighed, and ran her hand along her long plait. She nodded her head towards the door to the hangar, and they started walking. "I suppose." She glanced up and met his eyes, brows set in a frown. "But that man's - Brum's? - tone of voice. . . He hated you. Personally."

There was a question there. Matthias didn't know whether he wanted to answer it or not.

At his reticence, Inej continued, "We need to know if it'll be a threat going forward. If his hatred will unbalance him, or just make him pursue us with more vigour. . . Not to mention it could endanger both you _and_ whoever's with you when you're on solo missions. Even if you don't tell me, you'd need to tell whoever that is - Jesper, Nina. . ." She glanced at him to gauge his reaction; he forcibly kept his face neutral. Undaunted, she hit the sweet spot: "Or Wylan. They'd have to know."

_Wylan_. The one he'd sworn to protect.

Inej didn't smile, but he could swear she looked smug despite it. He shook his head. "I hate you." Respected her, liked her - but hated her a little, too.

She shrugged. "You know that we need to know. For the Alliance."

And he found himself taking comfort in those words: It wasn't just Wylan he was protecting. Not anymore. It was Nina, Inej, too. _For the Alliance._

"Brum trained me," he got out. "I knew he was a Protector, once, but I figured he was still training cadets at the Imperial Academy on Mandalore. At home, he's the face of all Imperial propaganda: Their staunchest supporter, personifying strength and order. He even looks the part - he's getting old now, but he was handsome in his youth. He's even been depicted wielding the darksaber by some of his fanatics."

Inej's brow furrowed. "Darksaber?"

Matthias hesitated for a moment. They were wandering through the corridors of General Kul-Bataar's flagship now; anyone could hear them. But it wasn't like it was a secret.

"It was a lightsaber made by the first Mandalorian ever inducted into the Jedi Order," he said, almost like it was an admission. Inej's eyebrows climbed her forehead. "When he died, the lightsaber was kept by the Jedi, before the Mandalorians reclaimed it and used it in their - _our_ \- ever-raging wars. It became the ultimate symbol of everything Mandalore stood for. Strength, prowess-"

"-war, violence, ruin. . ." Inej finished with a drawl.

He gave her a narrow look. "Coming from someone fighting in a galactic civil war."

"Point taken." Inej frowned again. "So, it's a propaganda war. This darksaber represents strength, and to be depicted with it is a great honour, and sends a powerful message. How could we undo that? Make Brum - and the Empire - lose credibility on Mandalore?" She narrowed her eyes. "What happened to it? Where is it now? If we could depict a Rebel with it _actually in their possession_ , it could have a massive effect."

Matthias thought of that crate he'd found. Thought of the Mandalorian armour it had contained - and the weapon with a blade as dark as night. . .

"Inej," he said slowly, "you will never _believe_ your luck."

* * *

Kaz still refused to fly the ship, so Jesper had to dump Wylan in the back with strict orders to _not die_ in order to fly the ship out of the system.

"My, aren't we popular today," he muttered to himself as he watched the squadron after squadron of TIE fighters being dispatched to pursue them. "Kaz, _get on the guns_!"

The rattle of blasterfire answered his shout and he inhaled, letting the breath clear his mind, let his focus narrow to the here and now. Except his focus wasn't on the here and now, because hadn't Nina told him he opened himself up to the Force only when flying? And didn't the Force connect all living things? Even the things on the cusp of death, with mortal wounds, like-

Like-

_Wylan._

He could feel the lordling in the back of his mind, a guttering star threatening to wink out. He could feel it as surely as he felt the movements of the ship underneath him, Kaz's grim determination, the stutter of his own frantic heart. Wylan was dying.

Jesper swerved to avoid more gunfire.

When he'd seen the trooper behind Van Eck raise his blaster, he'd wanted to fire there and then. He'd burned with it, that need to protect Wylan, that abject refusal to lose anyone else he loved. But a voice in his head - one that sounded suspiciously like Kaz - had told him to stick to the plan. Let the events play out as they would. Maybe the trooper would miss; maybe they wouldn't be _able_ to hit Wylan. Stormtroopers' awful aim was legendary, after all.

If he'd been a Jedi - had _any_ conscious grasp of the Force at all, really - he could have _made sure_ it happened. He could have yanked the blaster right out of the trooper's hand or, if all else failed, at least redirect the bullet so it didn't hit its target.

But Jesper had chosen not to learn about the Force. All he'd been able to do was watch.

And now Wylan might be dying because of it.

The ship rocked - Jesper more felt than heard Wylan's grunt of pain as he was thrown off the bed - and Jesper didn't know how he knew it had happened just that it was _true_ \- as true as the fact that he needed to _fly_ or that TIE fighter was going to paint a swathe of oil all over his viewport. . .

It seemed like an eternity before he could yank back the lever and they escaped into the peaceful bliss of hyperspace.

Thoroughly shaken, he went back to check on Wylan, but the kid was already awake.

Already awake, and had already ransacked the draws of the _Barrel_ to administer his own wounds.

"Are you. . ." Jesper began the question, but didn't finish it. He didn't know what to say, anyway.

"Matthias taught me first aid," Wylan said as he wrapped the bandage around his torso. "In case I ever got hurt when he wasn't there." His voice was calm. _Too_ calm. He was in shock.

"Wylan. . ." Jesper began, but the lordling held up his hand.

"Don't." His voice cracked. "Please." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I need. . ."

He let the question trail off into obscurity.

"Okay." Jesper found he was scared to speak above a soft whisper; Wylan looked so pale, so fragile, like a stray wind might blow him away. "I'll. . . I'll just. . ."

He fled the room.

"Kaz." The smuggler was still sitting at the guns, staring into the blue of hyperspace. "Don't do that - you'll go mad," Jesper awkwardly tried to joke, but Kaz looked. . . thoughtful. Somewhere between his scheming face and his neutral face, his current expression was as confusing as Kaz's general behaviour. "You alright?"

"Fine."

When it was clear that Kaz wasn't going to elaborate, Jesper hesitated, then added, "That shadow, on the roof. You did take care of it, didn't you?"

"No."

Great. Just great. "What was it?"

"A bounty hunter." Kaz flexed his pale fingers. "Don't worry, Jesper. He wasn't after you."

"Okay."

Nothing about this conversation made any sense, but it was clear Kaz wasn't going to say anything else, so Jesper didn't pry.

For the rest of the flight back the ship was eerily silent.

* * *

Nikolai Lantsov again reviewed the reports with the holos of the white landscape of the desolate planet Hoth and sighed to himself.

It wasn't that he disliked snow. They'd gotten enough of it on Naboo in the winter, when it was cold enough that the planet's bounty of water froze, and he and Vasily had often engaged in no-holds-barred snowball fights. Even back then, Vasily had glowered at him with that look, of jealousy and anger and hatred - the look of a nexu being forced to accept a new cub into the pack when it was perfectly fine on its own, thank you very much. And when Nikolai had gone into politics in his early teens - the time that most Nubian politicians did - the gap had only widened.

He'd mourned when his brother had died on the Death Star, of course. But more mourned the fact that his brother's selfish choices had led him there than his actual death.

So it wasn't snow itself that bothered him. It was the _abundance_ of it. It got everywhere: no haven was dry, pilots and mechanics growing more and more irascible as their fingers froze until they couldn't work on their starships. No one could get anything productive done.

They needed to leave soon. Being here was slowly killing morale - it felt a little too much like lying down and waiting to die.

There was a beep on his comlink which jerked him from his reverie; he reached for it instinctively and was asking, in a forcibly pleasant voice, "What is it?"

_"We sent out troops to investigate a blip on the scanners, as you ordered earlier, and they found an Imperial probe droid. The trooper's awaiting further instructions."_

"Do not engage the probe," he ordered instantly, and had to stifle a shudder. Probes were ghastly things. . . Spindly legs. . . Massive optical sensors. . . "If we're lucky maybe it won't come across the base."

_"The trooper says negative, sir. We're patching him through to you now to explain."_

Nikolai nodded, and winced when the unpleasant crash of static came over the comlink. That was another thing about the snow: it disrupted their communications a little too effectively for comfort. "Trooper?"

_"Affirmative-khk- Senator,"_ came the reply, breaking up with an alarming frequency. Nikolai winced again, and decided against correcting him on his title. _"The probe spotted us-kghgkkhk-shot at us, took out most of my men. We had to shoot-kghgkkhk-back. Didn't hit it that hard-kghkk-self-destructed. But if-kgkhk-transmitting when-khk-blew-"_

"Say no more, soldier," Nikolai assured him. "You get back to Echo Base. I'll give the order to begin evacuation."

_"Copy that, Senator."_ The man disconnected.

Nikolai took a deep breath. "Order all troops to begin evacuation, operate escape plan delta." He glanced upwards, towards the ceiling, like he could see aboveground and watch the Star Destroyers that would surely soon be reverting to realspace above them. "The Empire's found us." A touch bitterly - it had been _two months_ since the Death Star, _two months_ \- he added, " _Again._ "

* * *

"Focus on the Force, Kuwei, feel it, in your breath and in your bones and in your heart, flowing through you. . ."

"You're not helping," Kuwei grumbled, but he kept his eyes shut and Nina watched with ecstatic pride as the lightsaber he was trying to levitate wobbled, and wobbled, and. . .

"I did it!" Kuwei shouted joyfully when his eyes snapped open to see.

"Careful," Nina warned as the lightsaber dived for the ground and her student - could she in good faith call him a padawan, when she was still a padawan herself? - hastened to catch it before it hit the ground. After a few moments of trembling, it rose up to his eye level again.

"Brilliant," she said, "now - _focus_!"

Using the Force, she jabbed the lightsaber's activation button and turned it on.

Kuwei yelped and dropped the saber. "That's not fair!" he whined once it had clattered to the floor. "I was afraid it was going to hurt someone!"

"Lesson One of this new Jedi Order we seem to be building," Nina said, "and let's not tell any surviving Jedi we might run into about it, because they will not approve: Never let fear rule you."

Kuwei was quiet for a moment, then said, "I thought that was what all Jedi did."

Nina shook her head. "I've thought about this long and hard, and I've concluded that the Jedi attitude towards negative emotions like fear and anger and hate is wrong. One should not reject them, or treat them as taboo, or bottle them up. That is unbelievably unhealthy. Instead, see them as positive things. It helps with meditation.

"For example," she took in a deep breath, then breathed out. Closed her eyes, crossed her legs. "I hate the Empire because I loved the Jedi Order and the Republic, and now I also love all of you. Hate springs from love. It is not inherently evil."

She breathed in, then breathed out.

"I'm angry at the Empire because I believe in right and wrong, and its actions err firmly on one side of that line. Anger springs from morality - at least, my all-encompassing righteous anger does."

Breathed in, breathed out.

"And I fear the Empire because I have so much to lose. The last dregs of the Jedi. The last hope for the Republic. Inej. Matthias. You. All the other Rebels who could go the same way Anika did. I fear because I care, and because it forestalls any unpleasant consequences. As Inej is prone to say, when fear arrives, something is about to happen."

In, out.

Eyes open.

"I'm usually awful as meditation," she admitted to Kuwei, whose face seemed awestruck. "I can't quiet my mind. It's too full, of emotions, of fears, of hopes and dreams and possibilities. It's too loud." She took a deep breath and smiled. "But when my thoughts align, there's. . . peace.

"It's also therapeutic," she added. "And in this war, Force knows everyone needs therapy. Your support system-" She thought of Alina Starkiller, and her throat clogged up. "You are only as stable as your support system is."

Kuwei looked confused, but he nodded. "I can consider trying that," he said quietly.

Nina nodded back, beaming. "Good. Then we can-" Her comlink went off.

She read the message and said to Kuwei, "We're headed off to the Hoth system to help Senator Lantsov's evacuation. They detonated a probe droid by accident and now they think the Empire's on their way. We're the Rebel cell closest to them with a stable base, so we're heading over there to escort them here."

"Will it be dangerous?" Kuwei, for someone who'd been sombrely thinking about meditation less than two minutes before, looked far too excited at the concept.

"Probably," Nina said, with admittedly more cheer than necessary. "If the Imperial Fleet gets there before we do, there might even be a battle!" She paused, dread wrapping itself around her innards like wool. "Stark- Koroleva," she cursed herself for her slip; after all she'd learned about her, she couldn't just class Starkiller as a two-dimensional evil Sith Lord anymore, "might be there."

Instead of fear, it was glee that shone in his face. "Then we'll get to end her."

"Don't let your anger rule you," she warned.

His mouth twitched as he said, "My anger is righteous, and it springs from the fact that the galaxy would be much better off without Lady Koroleva in it. It is a moral pursuit."

Nina stared blankly for a moment. "I hate it when people actually listen to what I'm saying."

Kuwei laughed. "Are we all going?"

Nina shrugged. "Well, I understand Kaz, Jesper and Wylan are going since they just got back from whatever their mission was - and Wylan's new job is to catalogue all the stuff being moved from place to place, so he has to go. Kaz might fly off again," _like he did on Inej_ , she didn't say, "but Jesper will probably go. And I think General Kir-Bataar contacted her brother's cell as well, so, since Inej and Matthias are with them, they ought to be coming as well."

"So, literally everyone."

"Pretty much." She picked up her satchel, the edges of Alina Starkiller's music box inside it hard and sharp against her hand, and made to put Zoya's lightsaber - the one they'd been training with - away, before she paused. Handed it to Kuwei. "Keep it."

His shocked face was priceless.

"We don't have the time or resources for you to make your own at the moment," she explained, "and you're trained enough by now to be considered a threat by Koroleva if we run into her. It'd be best if you were armed for such an encounter."

"We can take her together," he said assuredly, holding the lightsaber in his hands reverently. "It'll be two against one."

Overcome by a sudden surge of fondness, she ruffled his hair. "Perhaps." She grinned. "Now let's get moving. We've got Rebels to save."


	22. Episode XXII

Wylan found that, despite his numerous travels with his father when he was younger, he had never seen such a deplorable planet as Hoth.

His wound - healed enough in the few days the hyperspace trip had taken for him to participate in the evacuation - throbbed amongst the cold and the wet; he shivered, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his side.

Kaz was staring upwards. When Wylan glanced up through a break in the snowy clouds, he saw a squadron of Alliance A-wings revert to realspace just beyond the atmosphere.

"Inej is leading them," Nina said next to them. "I recognise her flight patterns." Kaz nodded wordlessly, his gaze still fixed on the sky.

"I recognise that shield generator," Kuwei said idly. "I had to study how to put it together and take it apart as part of the work my father set me."

All he got were grunts of acknowledgement.

They reached Echo Base in quick time and were instantly assigned to the hangar, where they were to load crates onto the transports. Wylan was in charge of keeping the itinerary up to date.

It was dull work, a grim silence permeating the air, but Inej and her squadron landed soon after, and Wylan was soon treated to a once-over one could only receive from Matthias.

It was quick, harsh, thorough: his eyes lingered on the faint wince Wylan made when his motions aggravated his wound slightly, the way he stood to accommodate for it. "What happened to you?" It was half-threatening, half-insulted: why hadn't Wylan invited him? Why hadn't been there to stop it from happening? He would kill whoever did it. . .

"The lordling here," Jesper chimed in cheerfully, eyes fixed on the stack of crates teetering precariously in his arms, "got himself shot."

" _What_." Matthias's hand hovered over what looked like the hilt of something at his hip. Someone was going to die, judging by that tone, and Wylan sincerely hoped it wasn't Jesper. Kaz stepped away from the bulk of the group and led Inej with him. Wylan was tempted to follow, if only to avoid this awkward conversation, but any given interaction between Kaz and Inej was confusing, so that likely wouldn't help his state of mind.

"My father sent me a message claiming he wanted to defect," he said quietly instead, staring at the datapad in his hands, and the itinerary written on it. He wouldn't meet Matthias's eye. "Even if there was virtually no chance it was valid, I needed to confirm that."

Ever the analyst, understanding bloomed quickly on Matthias's face. "And you couldn't take me with you because that would be too predictable. He would've known what he was up against. With a pair of reprobate smugglers-"

"I object to that," Jesper announced airily.

"-your plan would be pretty hard to predict," the bodyguard conceded, heedless of Jesper's objection. "I see your plan." He folded his arms across his massive chest. "But you still could have informed me of it _before_ you ran off to get shot at."

Wylan felt his face heat up - the only reason he had in mind was that he hadn't wanted Matthias chaperoning this trip with Jesper - but thankfully, it was the smuggler himself who came to his aid.

"We were on a time constraint," the Corellian explained. "You know how long the hyperspace trip to Naboo is. We had a deadline, and we had to reach it."

"Inej was supposed to tell you," Wylan blurted out, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Great. Shift the blame onto their captain. Perfect way to resolve the argument.

Matthias didn't believe it for a second. He just gave Wylan a very, very sceptical look.

He sighed. "Alright, alright, I-"

"Van Eck!" Wylan jumped out of his ship to see Senator Lantsov himself speed-walking through the hangar. As he passed, he shouted, "Get back to work, we're on a time constraint!" There was humour in his voice, but it didn't outweigh the urgency.

Wylan got back to work. "Jesper, those crates go onto shuttle-"

Alarms blared throughout the hangar. Everyone froze, then peered up, out of the hangar exit, into the cloudy skies outside.

Inej was the first to move, leaping away from where she'd been standing, Kaz having disappeared, and running towards the snowspeeders at the other end of the hangar. She nimbly flipped onto the wing, slid into the cockpit and strapped herself in. Matthias and the rest of her squadron followed suit, and within minutes they were all launched and zooming out of the hangar, leaving dust and wind in their wake.

Everyone in the hangar seemed to have frozen. Wylan's pulse hammered like a rabbit's heartbeat in his throat; he swallowed tightly, then lifted his hands to the surface of the datapad. They were trembling.

"Well?" he snapped suddenly, shocking himself as much as the people around him. "Get moving! The Empire's here!"

The words ran through the cavernous room, invoking the sort of terror one might expect. Wylan glanced out of the hangar entrance again. There, beyond the white snowy plains, beyond the grey-bellied clouds, below the blue-tinted atmosphere and beyond any hope or doubt, Imperial Star Destroyers had coalesced into existence like daggers strew among the heavens in place of stars.

Was that Koroleva's flagship? He squinted, but the only thing he could tell was that the lead ship was massive - a few kilometres long, at least. Otherwise, he was much too far away.

A bustle of activity resumed around him as he released a shaky breath.

The Empire was here.

* * *

"Inej, I need to leave," Kaz said the moment he pulled her aside. He was never one to waste time.

She sighed. "I know. I was wondering how long you would actually stay for."

"It's not that." _That_ surprised her. She glanced up at him, eyes wide. "When I was on Naboo with Wylan, I saw Oomen."

"Pekka's favoured bounty hunter?" There was a dryness to her throat; Inej had to fight for her breath, for a moment. The name brought back memories she longed to forget, of too much skin, leering glances from all sorts of species, a cold shackle around her neck, the lump of the transmitter inserted into the flesh just below her collarbone. . . "What does this mean?"

"I _think_ ," Kaz said reluctantly, "he might be a little bit bitter I never actually delivered him the money promised from that one smuggling job."

_Oh, Force, Kaz_. "So he hired bounty hunters to track you down and make an example of you."

"Yes." Kaz rarely minced words. "So I need to leave. I can't risk Oomen finding your Rebellion because of me."

Inej took a deep breath, then asked the question that had been hanging between them for months by now: "Why not?" She paused to make sure she had his attention, then grasped his hand and reiterated, "What do you care?"

"I don't," he said immediately, but it was a knee-jerk response. She knew he didn't mean it. "That is. . ."

He sighed, and squeezed her hands.

"I don't _care_ , per se," he admitted, "but. . . There's a fire here. You've always had that fire, and now you've given it to Jesper, too. Wylan, Nina, Matthias. Your squadron. You said you'd blow up the Death Star, despite nigh-on impossible odds, and you did it." He smiled slightly, then released her hands. "It makes me wonder what else you'll do."

Inej wrapped her hands around herself, the chill of Hoth suddenly much more potent. "Kaz Brekker, Rebel sympathiser," she commented, with an attempt at a smirk.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he warned, but he was smiling too. In a move that took her by surprise, he kissed her cheek then stepped away again. "I'll be back," he promised, then ran to his ship.

"I know you will," she said to the empty space he left behind. It was true.

Kaz was gone by the time the Empire arrived.

* * *

Kuwei reached for the lightsaber clipped at his belt, but Nina put her hand on his to halt him. "Don't," she warned. "The Empire's set up a blockade; laser swords won't do anything about the rows and rows of capital ships. We have to keep loading the transports.."

"But that's Koroleva!" he protested.

_Force_ , had Nina been this bad as a padawan? No wonder Zoya had become as responsible as she had. Nina could feel _herself_ becoming responsible.

What an awful thought.

"Standard evacuation procedure is to fire two shots from the ground-based ion cannon to allow each transport to escape," Nina explained, getting an overwhelming sense of déjà vu from the conversation during the Battle of Dantooine, where Inej had explained it to Jesper. "We have to _load_ these transports in order for them to be _cleared_ to escape."

Kuwei frowned, but nodded. "I- I understand."

"Besides, you'll get the fight you're looking for," Nina assured him, almost sarcastically. She really did sound like Zoya now. "We haven't been obliterated via orbital bombardment just yet, so I assume High Command have raised the shield. If Koroleva wants us dead, she'll have to use a ground-based assault to do it." She accepted another crate from Wylan and made to run it up the ramp.

Realisation - a long with a _little_ too much excitement - dawned on Kuwei's face. "And she'll be leading it."

"Most likely." She strolled back down the ramp to accept the next one.

"What about Inej and her starfighters?"

"They're probably taking down the AT-ATs coming at us as we speak with tow cables and the likes." Nina shrugged - at least, she shrugged as much as it's possible to shrug when one is holding two massive boxes of supplies. "Don't worry about Inej. She can take care of herself."

" _You_ worry about her," Kuwei said, half-accusingly. At her bewildered look, he explained, "I can sense it."

Her eyebrows shot up, but they soon settled into their natural positions again. "Well, Inej is my friend. It's my job to worry about her. She does the same for me."

"And me," Kuwei insisted. "And Kaz. And Jesper and Wylan and Matthias. She's a friend of all of us, and she's my friend, too. I get to worry about her."

Nina blinked, then had to busy herself with the next batch of supplies she was hauling to prevent her padawan noticing the tears in her eyes. Her voice was a blanket of forced calm. "I'm sure she'd be thrilled to hear that."

There was _boom_ , then the base shuddered slightly. Wylan was conversing heatedly with someone on his comlink, before he turned to them.

"Kuwei," he said, meeting the boy's eyes with sort of urgency Nina had rarely seen in the lordling. "You said you knew how to put together our model of shield generator, right?"

Kuwei nodded wordlessly.

"The Imperial walkers took one out. If one of a pair failed, could you boost the power supply to the second to make it work double time? Or just, more effectively than it could otherwise?"

Her padawan's brow furrowed as he considered it. After a moment, he nodded grimly. "I can do it."

Jesper tossed the helmet of the Rebellion's snow gear to Wylan; Wylan passed it to Kuwei. "Then you're our only hope, Kuwei. We need you to get that shield operating, before the Empire overruns us all." He turned his solemn blue gaze on Nina. "We need you-"

"To defend his back while he works, got it," she confirmed. He nodded wearily; she almost felt sorry for him. She'd already seen Inej sacrifice her mental health and wellbeing, once, to the burden of leadership. She didn't want to see Wylan go through that as well.

But a more pertinent aim, she realised as she looked at Kuwei - so young, so vulnerable, so _in need of protecting_ \- and the expression on his face, was whether she could stop _herself_ from doing it.

* * *

Kaz saw the Imperial ships arrive, but they did so too late to stop him. He flew right through a gap in their not-quite-assembled blockade and jumped to hyperspace.

That is, _he_ didn't. As Inej had told Jesper, Kaz didn't fly his own ship. Instead, he'd yanked an old astromech droid out of one of the _Barrel_ 's cupboards and powered it up, setting it to plot their course and fly them out of there.

He hadn't lied to Inej when he'd said he hated droids, but necessity trumped sentiment. The moment they were in hyperspace he sent the droid to the back to shut down for a while, with instructions only to come back once they were due to revert to realspace.

He shook his head, scorning what a mess his life had become. Here he was. A farm boy without a farm. A pilot who couldn't fly his own ship. And a Rebel in all but name.

But as radical the changes Inej had brought into his life were, he could only pin upon her the blame for one of those things. The rest was all his fault.

It was no matter. He'd survived before; he would survive now. There was no way to change his past, but he could change the future, and maybe get Pekka off his back before he led the Empire right to Inej and Jesper.

So he sat in the passenger seat and activated his comlink. The person he commed took several rings to reply - he had always been a bit of a mess - but Kaz was patient. He had time. He could wait.

"Big Bolliger," he greeted with a smile like a whiplash when the man's face shone blue in the hologram. "So good to see you again."

Bolliger clearly didn't share the sentiment. He glowered at Kaz, but the sweat beaded on his brow and the way the hologram shook - as if the hand holding the comlink was shaking - betrayed his fear.

It was satisfying.

_"What do you want, Brekker?"_

"Only for you to pay up your end of the deal," Kaz said sweetly, "and tell me what the price on my head is, who's eyeing it, and who Pekka hired specifically to target me."

_"Pekka will kill me if I do."_

"And if you don't, I'll reveal exactly what happens whenever you _accidentally_ drop a shipment and the Empire _mysteriously_ finds out the hideout of a member of the Hutt clan." Kaz propped his chin on his hand. "Either way, Pekka will kill you." Honestly, Pekka probably already knew about Bolliger's cowardice, and how he always sold out his employer to save his own skin; he was probably glad to have had so much of the competition thinned by outside sources.

But Bolliger didn't need to know that.

The smuggler's face screwed up in a parody of thought. Kaz didn't believe it for a second: even if Bolliger had the brains _to_ think, Kaz had backed him into a corner. There was only one choice he could make.

_"Pekka's offered forty-five thousand credits to whoever delivers you to him, dead or alive,"_ Bolliger grumbled - practically growled. Kaz was mildly insulted. Inej had at least sixty thousand on her head for blowing up the Death Star, and Hutts were far more lavish that the Empire. _"And as for the bounty hunters he sent specifically, there's Oomen, of course,"_ he _was_ Pekka's favourite, _"Aerts, Gerrigan, Filip, that whole gang. He also got Geels to lend him some: Elzinger and the likes."_

Kaz would absolutely _not_ acknowledge the hard nugget of sense in the back of his mind that was currently secreting fear like a crushed meiloorun. "My, my, that _is_ an impressive list." He wasn't surprised that Pekka had decided to get a fellow Hutt like Geels involved, but it unsettled him all the same. "The slug really wants me dead."

_"You lost him a lot of money when you didn't come through on that shipment, and you haven't paid him back in the last year."_

"That was an observation, not an invitation for you to talk, Bolliger." He paused in thought. "But I can use this information. I'll call you back soon for more." Before the smuggler could object, Kaz disconnected the call.

Oomen had come close to catching him, that much was certain, but what about the others? Maybe he ought to keep that old astromech droid activated just so it could scan for homing devices or incoming ships.

Or maybe he could face this problem head on. He had enough money for a down payment on his debt, and if he ever really wanted Pekka to suffer for what he'd done to Kaz's family, he needed to have an actual contingency plan. He didn't - not yet - but he figured it would be best to not have Pekka expecting a strike from him. It would be best to make Pekka think he didn't have an enemy in Kaz.

It wouldn't be easy - in fact, it got harder every time he remembered how his father and brother had died, one wasting away from thirst and the other shot like cannon fodder, every time he remembered how he'd first seen Inej, clad in a metal bikini with the chain around her neck in that slug's hand - but he could do it. He _had_ to do it.

They all deserved justice. But it was a lawless galaxy, one where justice was a fickle concept that only fools like the Rebels believed in. The only obtainable thing that was similar to it was _revenge_.

And Kaz would have it. For Jordie. For Inej. For _him._

And, as Inej would no doubt say, for every other slave and smuggler who'd toiled under Pekka's yoke until he saw fit to break them.

Pekka the Hutt would fall. He knew it in his bones. It wasn't the Force, but something much realer. Something _earned_.

"Brick by brick," he whispered. "Brick by brick."

Then: "Droid! Set course for Tatooine!"


	23. Episode XXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't make up my mind, I've changed the story again so it's divided into two parts again. Sorry. Doesn't change any of the content, just the way it's structured.

Inej had never flown a snowspeeder in real life, nor had she flown it on a simulator, but the controls were similar enough. This Rebel cell had clearly had to modify a T-47 airspeeder to suit the unforgiving climate, and Inej had flown plenty of airspeeders before. She could do this.

She was more worried about Matthias.

"How do you fire this thing?" He sat in the gunner's seat, facing backwards; it was her job to fly and his job to shoot.

"You pull the trigger."

"Not helpful!" He fumbled with the mechanism again, and was rewarded with a bang. "There we go!"

"You're lucky you didn't hit a member of the squadron," Inej reprimanded, but her heart wasn't in it - it was too busy beating its way out of her chest at the sight of the five walkers headed their way.

One of said walkers turned its head and fired at them; it was more instinct than conscious thought that had Inej rolling, rolling, rolling, until the crimson bolt had passed harmlessly overhead and they were the right way up again.

There were blasts off to their left, and Inej glanced over to see another member of the squadron return fire. _Please be down, please be down, please be down. . ._

She cursed under her breath as the red and yellow smoke was swept aside to reveal the walker completely undamaged.

She turned on her internal comms. "This is Green Leader. Our shots can't penetrate those walkers' armour; we have to find another way. Use your harpoons and tow cables, it's our only chance of stopping them!"

 _"Affirmative, Green Leader,"_ came the staccato reply, and then she was on her own again.

Well, not completely alone. "I need you to get us round," Matthias called. "Once I shoot at the legs, I'll need you to fly round it three times, get it truly tangled up in the cable. Then we can detach and watch it fall."

"Got it," she confirmed, then swerved a little to avoid another shot. The walkers were large up close: their entire landspeeder, able to fit both of them plus a _lot_ of mechanical components inside it, was barely bigger that one of its legs. They sailed between them and out the other side with ease once they'd fled the line of fire. "Get ready to shoot in three. . . two. . . one. . ."

There were screams over the comms, then, and Inej flinched at the explosion just off her right flank, but Matthias fired anyway and all she could do was fly.

There were so many of them. The five walkers towered over the rest, but she could see them just as clearly: white snowtroopers and silver transports and even small ATMPs, loaded with enough firepower to blow the entire base out of atmo and back. Even as her pulse hammered in her throat, she could hear her father's voice in her head as he sat with her in his lap in the cockpit of the rundown old ship that had been their home. _Fly, Inej._

She reached the tail end of the walker then turned sharply, and was flying parallel with them.

_Fly, Inej._

She came round its front again, directly under its head where its cannons couldn't hit her, and the other walkers would be too afraid they'd hit one of their own to even try.

 _Fly, Inej_.

She'd finished her first round now, then her second. . .

Third. . .

 _Just. . . keep. . . flying. ._.

"Detach cable!" she shouted, and Matthias did.

The walker's front leg made to step forward again, but the cable bound them together. Its centre of gravity shifted towards the front, then over the front, and she laughed with relief as it collapsed face down in the snow, its back legs sticking upwards like a graceless animal's hindquarters. Another speeder flew past and shot at the unprotected juncture between its head and body.

It exploded into flames.

There were cheers across the comms; Inej grinned herself. _"One down, four to go!"_

"You're right," she murmured to no one in particular. "It's not over yet."

* * *

Nina didn't like the cold of Hoth anymore through the padding of her gear than she had during the trek into the base, but she had other problems. For a snowy, perpetually cloudy planet, visibility was remarkably good today. Certainly good enough for her to see those four-legged AT-AT walkers that spelled "doom" marching towards them.

"Hurry, Kuwei," she whispered to herself, her breath crystallising in the air before her.

They crept along behind the gunners, through the mini-trench that had hastily been erected; Nina did her best not to flinch at every shot that rang out over their heads. Some struck the wall of the trench, sending snow cascading downwards, the tunnel collapsing. . .

 _Focus._ There was enough fear here as it was. She could feel it through the Force, like a sweaty shirt clinging to her back. The gunners' fear as they were picked off one by one and the walkers drew ever closer, Kuwei's fear as he crept along beside her. True to form, she felt no fear at all from the Imperial troops manning the walkers - they believed the Empire infinite, absolute. That they could not be beaten.

Nina was itching to prove them wrong. Inej already _had_ proved them wrong.

Finally, they reached the shield generators. They were massive lumpy things, taller than hers and Kuwei's heights combined. The Rebels had done an adequate job of passing off such a bulky thing as just another rock form while inert, but when it was being used the entire charade was pointless: the Empire could easily detect the massive amounts of energy it exerted on their scopes, and the disguise only made their job harder.

Fortunately, the access hatch was low down, so Kuwei could reach it fairly easily, which left Nina to ignite her lightsaber and watch for incoming shots - the walkers' target _was_ the shield generator, after all; the gunners were just a distraction.

Her goggles were meant to protect her eyes against glare, so through their tinted lenses the light her saber cast over the snow was crimson, like blood, passion. . .

_Like a Sith._

She recoiled at the very thought, turned off her lightsaber, which was how she was distracted - and how she didn't sense her presence until Kuwei made a peculiar choking noise.

Only then was she aware that the cold she was feeling wasn't all physical; through the Force, Koroleva's presence chilled her very blood, turned her bones to brittle splinters of ice. The woman's silver armour reflected the grey clouds and snow mounts perfectly, the curved surfaces changing the angle of reflection, the shape of the shapes. She stood there, saber at her waist, her arm stretched out. She was a wrinkle in time; a mirage caused by heat or light distortion. A focal point of the unforgiving landscape around them more than a living entity.

But Kuwei was choking.

He grasped at his throat desperately, face already going purple. Koroleva raised her hand minutely and suddenly he was dangling several feet above the ground, his tools lying discarded and forgotten in the snow.

"Let. Him. Go." The words were spat like poison from her mouth; suddenly she was standing in the fighting stance, her lightsaber lit and held with both hands out in front of her.

Koroleva's head turned towards hers, that motion as minute as the last, and then her hand dropped to her side. Kuwei dropped too - dropped like a stone, thumping into the ground with a strangled cry. She could only hope the snow cushioned his fall.

Nina wanted to rush over to him, grasp his shoulder, massage his throat. . .but that would be a bad idea. Because Koroleva was still watching her, head cocked like a bird about to strike, and Nina didn't dare take her eyes off her armour-clad form for one moment.

Kuwei's wheezes had faded to near silence when Nina hissed, "You will _pay_ for what you've done."

Koroleva cocked further. "You're angry."

She was. She was so angry. She wanted to shove her lightsaber through Koroleva's heart, down her throat. She wanted to rip her helmet off her face, tear her to pieces, tear her and her _entire precious Empire_ to pieces. She wanted to tighten her hand and feel her breathing constrict into gasps, into wheezes, then not at all. She wanted Koroleva - Alina Starkiller - _this woman_ to feel even an _inkling_ of the suffering she'd been inflicting on Nina's galaxy for almost as long as she could remember.

And it terrified her.

_Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering. . ._

_I am angry because I care. Because I have people I love, places I love, because I have everything to lose and everything to protect._

Nina took in a deep breath. She ignored the way the cold winds of Hoth scorched her throat, the way the ice splinters in her bones seemed to shatter as she straightened. Held her lightsaber loosely in her right hand.

"Yes," she said. Koroleva hadn't attacked yet. Why hadn't she attacked yet? "I am angry." She took in another deep breath, and in that moment, she made eye contact with Koroleva. She didn't know how she did it, only that she looked into the woman's eyepieces and something clicked. "But it does not control me." A jibe as much as it was a moral statement; Koroleva flinched back, as if she didn't like the implied accusation that it did control her. It was slight, but it was what she needed.

She charged.

It was a swift, brutal move; throwing her body low, skidding across the snow, then throwing her saber high in a wide slashing arc, set to dismember Koroleva from waist to knee. . .

But there was a clash and a hum and Nina slid back onto her feet as yellow sparks leapt off their connecting blades, pink versus red. How could she have ever thought hers looked like the weapon of the Sith? Koroleva's was dark and congealed, like dried blood; there was something revolting and overwhelmingly _common_ about the colour. All Sith had red lightsabers. Nina was the only Jedi with a pink one.

She was on her feet now, and Nina was a tall woman - as tall as her opponent, even - but Koroleva seemed _bigger_. She used the full weight of her armour to bear down on her, all of that force centred into the one point where their blades connected. And then the sabers were horizontal and Nina was fighting gravity as well as Koroleva, their combined strength inching the blades closer and closer to her neck. . .

The heat scoured the protective wrappings round her face; they tore in two, flapping behind her at first like a pair of wings before the wing stole them and they were gone, thrown high above the duelling Force-wielders, high above the AT-ATs advancing ever further, high and loose and free. . .

The wind tore into her face in lieu of the protection, and she gasped, icy knives crammed down her throat with the motion. But all was not cold: there was heat, too. Heat in the hum of their lightsabers, in the charred remains of her gear, in the yellow sparks jumping around.

Three of those sparks landed on her cheeks, just below her eye; she stifled her scream as she felt them eating into her skin and flesh. It felt like she'd cried molten tears.

Koroleva suddenly retracted her attack; unbalanced Nina staggered forwards, only to stumble again and struggle to parry when she was attacked from the side. Her own blade held perpendicular to the ground, Koroleva's pointed straight at her at her like a promise, Nina was crying real tears now. They aggravated the wounds on her cheek - Nina was sure they would scar.

She gave a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob when Koroleva retracted her attack again. She was so tired her bones ached; despite the freezing weather, sweat drenched her back. Her arm muscles trembled from the strain.

Her legs couldn't take it anymore. She collapsed onto her knees. Her lightsaber turned itself off when it hit the ground.

She squinted upwards as Koroleva loomed over her. If she was going to die, she at least wanted to look her death in the face.

Koroleva's lightsaber remained lit at her side.

"You know," the Sith Lord said, "I had hoped you were a better opponent. You were so fascinating. I wanted to see what you did." A pause, in which only the wind was heard, then, "I thought you were like me."

The words disarmed Nina more than she could ever express. Because it was true, wasn't it? Listening to Zoya's stories about the great Jedi Knight Alina Starkiller, about the scavenger alone in the desert, about a loss that had shattered her soul. . . Nina had seen nothing but _loneliness_ in that tale.

Loneliness just like her own. Loneliness that came from being the last of your kind, or the first - the sole survivor of all that life in a lawless galaxy could throw at you.

Loneliness that led to the fear of being alone forever. The fear that drove you to seek solace in someone else, someone who was angry at all that had made them lonely. The anger that drove you to hate all that had led you to such a dark place.

The hate that meant you wanted to watch the galaxy suffer, just so you know you are not alone in your torment.

Nina hadn't taken that path - _wouldn't_ take that path - because her loneliness hadn't been eternal. Alina Starkiller had turned to the only one who would help her, and been willing to do whatever he said. _She'd_ held on, and been rewarded by not being alone anymore.

 _Inej. Matthias. Wylan. Jesper._ Kuwei, who even now she knew was taking advantage of her distraction, of her leading Koroleva further away from the shield generator, in order to fix the shield. Even Kaz, for all their exchange of threats and over-protectiveness of their mutual friends. _And the entire fragging Rebel Alliance, a faction of which is currently relying on us to finish this._

She wasn't alone.

So it was with a strong voice and a raised chin that she said, "I'm nothing like you."

She couldn't see Lady Koroleva's face, but she got the distinct impression that her lips had just pressed themselves into a snarl. Despite this, the next words were strangely flat, monotone, and Nina wondered how someone so steeped in anger and hatred could ever sound so apathetic.

"Then you will die."

There was almost a tiredness to them.

She struck, but Nina was ready. She'd had a moment's rest, and that was enough. There was energy in her arms as she moved them, and she parried, blocked, thrust. It was hardly ease that she fought with, but rather assurance. Her hit would find its mark.

"No, I won't," she panted as she blocked, thrust, parried. Thrust, parried, blocked. "Not here, not here. Not until I've killed you, and exacted vengeance for my master, for my friend, for the _galaxy_."

She couldn't speak; she couldn't _breathe_. The air had been ripped from her lungs with her words, and still she fought on.

"Revenge is not the Jedi way." The words were flat, colder than their surroundings - and strangely anticipatory.

Nina paused. It was a minute pause, not large enough for Koroleva to gain any sort of foothold, but it was powerful. And it seemed long to her.

Revenge wasn't the Jedi way. But neither was loneliness. Jedi shunned the Dark Side, rejected it, tried to stay as far away from it as was physically possible. And maybe the core beliefs of her order had been good and true and right, but they'd been twisted by the mentors she'd grown up with into something unhealthy. Something vile.

Because Nina wasn't the woman they'd wanted her to become. She was brash and reckless and irresponsible; prone to anger and fear and outbursts; passionate and fiery and _blazing_ with her own self-righteousness. She fit the concept of Jedi about as well as Kaz fit the concept of a respectable entrepreneur.

Jedi ran from the Dark Side. Nina had walked right through it, held its hand, consumed nothing but what it fed her, during those shadowy times before she'd met Inej.

She hadn't escaped unscathed by the darkness, but she'd escaped _stronger_. Better. With a grasp on her own limitations and humanity which she hadn't had before.

The Jedi would reject her. The Sith would despise her. Nina was something in between, something that served only the will of the Force and the fickle concept of morality.

She would train Kuwei, she decided. But not as a Jedi. She would train him to use the Force, but none of their restrictive teachings, none of their shortcuts and rules that had never been adequately explained. She would train him, and together they could build a new order, one separate from both the Jedi _and_ the Sith. Something _better_.

"I am no Jedi," she told Koroleva, and it felt like an oath. An oath sworn by the molten tears on her cheeks, by the snowy winds of Hoth, by the padawan who was even now finishing fixing the shield generator.

Its humming was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. A swarm of crickets here to welcome the new day.

She was so proud of Kuwei. So proud he'd fixed it. So proud he'd kept it secret. And so proud he hadn't objected to her claim. He'd trusted that she knew what she was doing. Nina was grateful for that.

She could feel Koroleva's rage, hate - _fear_ \- as she turned to behold him standing behind her, face flush and glowing, its contours highlighted by the electric blue light of the lightsaber held before him. For a moment, he looked almost magical.

Then a snarl twisted his beautiful face and he spat, "You will _pay_ for what you did to my father!"

Foreboding flushed, cold and liquid, into Nina's gut. "Kuwei, _no_!" she shouted, knowing somewhere, deep inside her heart, exactly how this was going to go.

It was the same lightsaber Zoya had been carrying. It was the same form Kuwei used, his lightsaber clutched high and close to his chest - it had been one of the first that she'd taught him.

And it was the same move that the same Sith Lord using the _same lightsaber_ pulled out, thrusting the blade through Kuwei's torso.

_First my master, now my apprentice._

He gave a little _oh_ , like he was surprised. His eyes went wide. They searched for hers, the way they had when they were training. _A_ _m I doing this right? Am I progressing okay?_

His body slumped to the ground like a rag doll, the last breath that left his body a quiet gasp.

She felt his death like a candle flame keeping her heart alight had just gone out.

"Kuwei!" She stared in horror, eyes clouding with tears. This couldn't be right - the goggles must be obscuring her vision, must be altering what she saw, because there was _no way_ this was right. She yanked them off, threw them to the ground, and stared through the glare, but the image didn't change.

Of course it didn't change.

You can't change the past.

"Kuwei. . ." She wanted to run to his side, feel for his pulse, tickle him like she would occasionally when he wasn't getting up for early morning lessons. She'd only known him a few months, but in her life of impermanence he'd become a constant - an irritating, teenage constant, but one she'd needed. Desperately.

And now. . .

Now. . .

She remembered climbing through that window. She'd been so reckless, so blasé towards how her life was going to change. Her life was always changing; what was one more change, right? She'd thought back then that even the blond Mandalorian she was flirting with - terrifying the wits out of - wouldn't be around for long, that it would only be that mission, then she'd never see him again.

_Are you a Jedi?_

His body had turned into a blur now; her eyes were swamped by tears. They dripped down her cheeks, ran into the crook of her neck, left her even wetter and stickier than before.

_Are you? Are you a Jedi?_

_Have you come to save me?_

She blinked her gaze free of tears, then looked back up at Koroleva. She was watching her, silent and still. She was _enjoying_ this.

_She wants to know that she is not alone in her grief._

Nina glared with all the fire in her fiery heart, and then her left arm snapped out. Not towards Koroleva, but towards Zoya's - _Kuwei's_ \- lightsaber, where it had fallen in a snowdrift.

Koroleva was just as fast.

Neither got there first. They were both tugging, yanking, but the saber just wobbled in the snow. It wouldn't move for either of them; it was almost as if someone else had locked onto it, someone untrained, who was barely managing to move it at all.

And then they did.

The lightsaber flew through the air, but not towards either of them. Towards the base, and the Corellian smuggler standing towards it.

And Nina wondered how she'd ever managed to miss that blazing Force presence as the hilt slapped into Jesper's hand.

He was breathing heavily - he'd clearly just run from somewhere - and was looking between her and Koroleva with a sort of poorly-concealed panic. But then he looked past them, to Kuwei's rapidly cooling body, and his face hardened into resolve.

He lit the lightsaber.


	24. Episode XXIV

In the time that followed their first kill, they lost half their speeders taking down another two walkers. By the time there was only one left, three remained. And Inej was arguing with another person to leave.

"Getting yourself killed won't help anyone!"

Judging by the grumbling Matthias heard before he switched off the comm, the pilot wasn't thrilled. But he didn't need to be thrilled. He just needed to do it.

He did it. And not a moment too soon; their last speeder exploded off the side mere heartbeats later.

"So, now it's just you and me, Inej," Matthias said dejectedly.

"Just you and me," she agreed, "and it's time for a change in tactics. Do you have the darksaber on you?"

His hand went to his waist. "Yes." He couldn't say why he'd kept it at his side since he first showed it to Inej, but he had, and apparently she'd been counting on it.

"Great." He could practically hear the cogs ticking in her brain, working, working. . . "Then let's bring back a legend."

* * *

Jesper didn't know what he was doing here. He just knew that, with Kuwei gone, Nina needed help.

He'd never held a lightsaber before, but the crystal around his neck hummed in tune with the blade he held. It was heavier than he'd expected, the casing cold in his hands, slippery with snow; he had to clutch it tightly.

Especially when he felt the telltale tug on the hilt.

"No!" he said stupidly, gripping it tighter. His thoughts moved slowly. Koroleva's hand was out again; she was trying to take it from him!

And if she did, that was just one more weapon she'd be able to wield against Nina.

"No," he repeated, and tugged it closer to himself. Despite the fact that it was the last thing he wanted to do, he made to march towards the pair, lightsaber clutched in a form he distantly remembered watching Nina teach Kuwei. Stars, but he wished he'd actually taken up the offer for her to teach him too, if only so he had that skill set when it came down to it. . .

He drew level with Nina, and pointed Kuwei's lightsaber at the armour-clad woman in a feeble parody of a threat.

"Jesper," Nina warned, "duck."

Though the beginnings of a half-formed "What-" stuck in his throat, he ducked. She somersaulted over his head - over Koroleva's head - and was carving her lightsaber down before she'd even landed. A large swathe of the crimson cape Koroleva wore was ripped away, burning, and the woman turned with vengeance, red saber already lit and swinging. They met with a crash, then Koroleva flicked her hand back and Jesper barely caught the lightsaber as it tried to jump out of his hand.

"Don't have the guts to face me on even footing?" Nina taunted. Jesper wondered at that. She'd been calm and rational - non-confrontational - before; what had changed?

_You did,_ he realised. _She's trying to draw attention away from you._

"I have every advantage over you already, young one," Koroleva replied. "And that pirate," she spoke the word with disdain, "has no right to that weapon."

"The way I see it," Jesper said loudly. He hated the look of panic on Nina's face, but couldn't she see he was just trying to help? He just wanted to help, "is that so long as I'm holding the weapon, it's mine to wield."

Koroleva's full attention snapped onto him, leaving Nina unbalanced and flailing in the snow. Through his newly-embraced connection to the Force, he could feel her anger, all suddenly directed at him - feel her disgust over his remark like cold water running down his back.

"You will _pay_ for your _insolence_ ," she hissed.

"As you said, I'm a pirate." Jesper didn't think his tone came out quite as carefree as he was going for, but it was good enough. "I don't even know what that means!"

With a roar, she started towards him, but then there was a crash. There had been several crashes in the past half hour - Jesper could only hope Inej and Matthias were doing a good job of vanquishing the walkers - but this one felt important in a way he couldn't quite explain.

The three of them looked towards the battle.

Imperial forces were retreating, Jesper realised joyously. The smoking corpses of fallen walkers littered the snow. And the biggest one had someone standing on it.

"Oh, Force. . ." he heard Nina whisper.

It was Matthias.

Jesper couldn't quite stop his mouth from falling open as he watched the Mandalorian lift his right arm - and the object he was holding in it. From this distance, it looked just like a sword of some kind, but both Jesper's sense and his feelings told him that wasn't accurate. Swords made of metal never grew dark enough to give off the illusion that they absorbed all the light that hit them - that they positively glowed with it. And he could feel the blade he carried as well. It power writhed, like a beast on a tether. Chaotic neutral that perhaps had once been light.

It felt like the lightsaber in his hands, Jesper realised. It felt like the lightsaber except. . . colder. Older.

Much, much older.

Nina didn't seem to understand what was going on anymore than he did, but she used it all the same. She turned to Koroleva. "You've lost," she snarled. There was a tremor in her voice, and for a moment Jesper's eyes were drawn to Kuwei's corpse, cooling in the snow. "Your forces are in retreat. Your Destroyers can't bombard us; the shield is still intact. Now, surrender."

Koroleva's voice was a snarl, too, and it was much more terrifying than Nina's. "All of what you've said is true," she sneered, "but it does not change the fact that I can still leave both your bodies lying under your precious generator, then take it out myself."

She raised her lightsaber again; Nina tensed, weapon coming forward in a protective stance. Then Koroleva froze. Cocked her head to one side, listening.

"I will not," she snapped, voice cold. Jesper was momentarily confused until he heard the rush of static crackling through the air. She was speaking to someone on her comlink. "Admiral," she began heatedly, "I-" She was cut off.

Nina and Jesper shared a confused glance.

There was another tense minute, then there was a minute change in Koroleva's posture. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and if Jesper could see her face, he imagined it would be the picture of defeat.

"As the Emperor commands," she said in a monotone voice. "We shall press the attack once we've called for reinforcements."

Jesper didn't know whether she'd simply forgotten he and Nina were there, or simply considered them so incompetent and insignificant that it made no difference if she revealed the Empire's strategy. Jesper suspected the latter; she didn't seem to think very highly of them as it was.

Then she turned her back and stalked away, crimson cape flapped in the wind. Within moments, she'd been swallowed by the storm.

Jesper was suddenly hyperaware of how cold his face was.

"We should get back the base," he said slowly. "They'll want to know that there's another wave coming within the next few days."

Nina didn't respond. When he glanced at her face, he saw her gaze was still transfixed on Kuwei's body, lying motionless in the snow.

* * *

The relief in the hangar was palpable - and infectious. Wylan couldn't stop grinning as two more pilots streaked past him, whirling each other round in some mad victory dance.

They'd won.

The words were chanted over and over, and if anything that made them seem even more unreal. They'd won.

The Empire had been driven away. They'd won.

Matthias was holding court by the open landing ramp of the Barrel, Inej standing a little way off and nodding as he narrated the tale. Wylan still couldn't believe the stunt he and Inej had pulled, even if the darksaber was hanging at Matthias's side, clear for everyone to see.

A snippet of the conversation drifted over. ". . .and so Inej told me to open the hatch and climb out onto the walker and take it out with the saber alone! I did, and it cuts through even their armour extremely efficiently. . ." Matthias's voice was animated - he sounded more like an excited little boy than the gruff bodyguard Wylan had come to know. It was. . . heart-warming.

Then Wylan's warm heart was chilled by a sudden rush of cold air, and the sombre party that came in the door with it.

He began to smile when he saw Jesper come in, but aborted the attempt when he saw his face. In his hands he held a sheet - no, not a sheet. A body, with a sheet flung over it. He had the ankles; Nina, walking in after him, held the head.

It hit Wylan half a thought later. _Where's Kuwei?_

The baby of their group. The little one. The one he'd strongly suspected had a crush on Jesper.

His eyes were drawn to the body. Oh.

_Oh._

He felt his heart break a little more than it already had.

Even Matthias's enthusiastic storytelling halted, and he looked over at the sorry pair with big blue eyes, like a kicked puppy. Nina's grief seemed to increase the cold in the room; Wylan shivered where he stood.

She handed Kuwei's body to Jesper, then walked up to Inej. Her friend's dark eyes tracked her silently as she walked, expression unchanging, until Nina stood in front of her and said in a monotone voice, "Rebel command are worried they'll launch another attack soon, once they've regrouped. We're to all evacuate immediately. Get on a ship and go. They'll send coordinates for the rendezvous point to everyone else, but we're to return to General Kir-Bataar and the Monsua Nebula."

Inej just nodded, once at Nina, then once at the pilots milling about. The celebration broke up and they all headed towards their respective ships.

She reached for the bag at her side. "Here's your satchel."

Nina took it slowly, weighing it in her hands. Then her hand pressed against one of the ridges pushing its way through the fabric, and she stiffened. Dug around in the satchel. Drew it out.

It looked like a music box.

That was all Wylan could make out before she threw it to the ground and walked away.

Inej glanced at the - now slightly broken - object, then narrowed her eyes slightly at Nina's retreating back. But she didn't comment on anything, and soon enough she was following her up the ramp, onto a shuttle, and Wylan had to follow as well.

* * *

It was with approximately zero regret Inej watched the snowy surface of Hoth recede beneath them, then disappear entirely to the folds of hyperspace. She was tired of being cold - not the familiar cold of space, that is, but the cold of ice, snow. The cold that could kill you.

And she was tired of the other cold, the cold that was currently enveloping her ship. It seemed to emanate from Kuwei's body; every word Nina said was frozen with it. Inej half expected to see her breath puff out in front of her.

She sighed, hand straying to the spot in her hair where, only a few weeks ago, she'd placed the candlewick flower Kaz had given her. The one she'd been wearing while they'd come up with the mission plan for the boys' excursion to Naboo, that had tinted everything she saw gold.

She wondered where Kaz was. Gone to deal with Oomen and Pekka? How well had that fared?

Almost as though it had heard her silent query, her comlink chimed. She glanced down, read the message almost lazily. Then she stiffened.

Almost before she could think, she was typing in Tamar's frequency and listening to her comlink ring.

* * *

Jesper couldn't stand the silence. He couldn't stand the heavy shroud the body on the dejarik table cast over everything. He. Couldn't. Take it.

Wylan was the one who broke it - Jesper cast him a grateful look, then glanced away quickly, guilt churning in his stomach. The lordling's face still bore bruises from their escapade on Naboo. "How did it happen?"

Nina was quiet for a moment, still staring into thin air, then she clenched the fist in her lap. "Koroleva." There was a finality to the word. A promise, too. "It was Koroleva."

It all came back to Koroleva, Jesper mused. The Chosen One of the Jedi, Alina Starkiller. He'd been a boy when the Clone Wars raged, but he remembered the reports on the holonet, the faces that were plastered everywhere in Republic propaganda. _Starkiller and Nazyalensky save the day again!_ She'd been an icon, an ideal. Little Jesper had even had a crush on her, of sorts.

She was an easy person to have a crush on. She was practically a saint.

And to many, when the Jedi had fallen and Starkiller pronounced dead, a martyr.

The silence fell again, the undisturbed surface of a lake. "I'm sorry," Jesper said into it. The words were thrown out like a pebble, and sank quickly. Before long, they may have never been said at all.

_Where do we go from here?_ Jesper wanted to ask. Logically, he knew the answer. They were going back to Starkiller base.

But he meant it in a more intangible way than that. _Where do we go? What do we do?_ They'd formed a team of sorts in the time they'd spent together, and as young as Kuwei was, he'd been a part of it. What were they meant to do now that one of their members was gone?

At least Inej seemed to be functioning at normal capacity. It was good to know at least one person could be relied upon to not fall apart.

Jesper clenched his fist. _Not like you._

He glanced up at Wylan again, at the violet, violent bruise on his pale face.

_You could've stopped it. You didn't stop it._

He clenched his fist harder; the veins stood out on the back of his hand in stark relief.

_You weren't enough to stop it._

Maybe he should just leave the Rebellion - maybe he'd been a fool to actively try to convince Kaz to join it. Maybe he should leave, and go far, far away. If he couldn't keep Wylan from being hurt, how could he help anyone else? How could he be relied upon to help the galaxy?

_I wasn't good enough._

That voice in his head, the one that always seemed to sound exactly like Kaz, didn't hesitate to snap back: _So get better._

_Do better._

_Be better._

Stronger, smarter, more powerful. What had Kuwei said, when he'd first asked Nina to train him as a Jedi?

_I want to be able to defend myself. I want to have those skills in my repertoire. The age of the Jedi is over, but their abilities aren't obsolete._

Jesper closed his eyes.

_I want to be able to stop anything like this from ever happening again._

His hand brushed the crystal at his neck. For a moment, he imagined he could hear his mother's laughter catching on the wind. She hadn't deserved the fate she'd been given.

None of them had.

Kuwei was gone now. Kuwei could never do what he'd promised to do, could never honour his father in that way. But Jesper could.

Jesper could carry that legacy. For the boy who'd died in the snow. For his mother, who'd died before her time. For Wylan, who so many people had sworn (and failed) to protect.

He opened his eyes and his mouth moved before he could stop it. "Nina?"

She glanced up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her irises as hard as shards of glass.

Jesper yanked on his necklace. The thread he wore it on broke with a snap, and the kyber crystal lay unmoving on the palm of his hand. It was warm - not from contact with his body, he suspected, but from some innate inner energy - and it hummed softly against his skin, its light gilding the harsh lines of his hand. "I want you to teach me how to use the Force."

"I won't teach you to become a Jedi. It's time for the Jedi to end." Her tone was flat, and Jesper wondered what had caused such a radical change in her, but he shook it off. He trusted her judgement; if she said it was time for them to end, it was time.

So he shook his head. "No. I want to finish what Kuwei started. I don't want to ignore this power I have anymore. Not when I can do good with it." He looked past her, to Wylan. "Not when I can save people with it."

The blush that overtook the lordling's face almost hid the bruise covering it.

Nina drew in a breath to answer - but then Inej strode in, her face the picture of worry.

She wasted no time on preamble. "I picked up a distress call," she said. "It's from Kaz." She swallowed. "Pekka Rollins captured him."

* * *

Inej tried to calm her racing heart as they rushed into the cockpit with her and she played back the message. She'd already watched it twice: once, when she'd first received it, then again when she didn't believe it.

The blue figure of Kaz shimmered into existence, and then he started talking.

_"I'm prerecording this before I head into Pekka's palace, and my_ droid _-"_ He said the word with some modicum of disgust, _"-will send it if I don't return to the Barrel in two days. Of course, it might be too late by then, but I doubt it. Pekka's a fan of extending the suffering of those who defy him._

_"I went back to Tatooine to pay off my debt to Pekka, in hopes that he'll stop sending bounty hunters after me. It's putting us all at risk."_ Inej didn't miss the surprised twitch Jesper gave at the use of 'us'. _"But it's been a while since the deadline for the debt was due, so Pekka might not decide to let me off the hook and throw me in the brig to be used as an example for when he thinks someone's at risk of defying him again. In which case: do_ not _come after me. Inej, Jesper, do you hear that? Do not-"_

She clicked off the recording. "After that he just spews a bunch of insults at us."

Jesper was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "We're going after him, right?"

Inej shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?" He sounded affronted - and offended - at the idea.

"I was going to put it to a vote."

Jesper's voice was getting shriller and shriller. "So if you and I are the only ones voting to rescue him, we're just not going to rescue him?"

"No." She met his eyes steadily. "If we're the only ones who want to rescue him, I'll dump everyone else at Starkiller base and then we'll go rescue him."

Jesper froze, the breath leaving him all at once. "That sounds fair," he admitted, then turned to Wylan, Matthias and Nina where they stood behind them. "Well?"

Jesper watched as Nina crossed her arms. "I'm no fan of Kaz, but if Inej's is going anyway there's no way in Hell I'm letting her go in without me."

Wylan's voice was quiet, but he met Jesper's eye and said, "It's the same for me."

Matthias hesitated, then placed his hand on Wylan's shoulder in a clear sign of support. He was in.

"Alright." There was a smile in Inej's voice, but he noticed her hands trembling as she turned back to the controls to edit the hyperspace coordinates.

_Tatooine means something to her,_ he deduced, _and she doesn't want to go back. But she will._

_For Kaz._

It was Wylan who, in a jittery voice, asked, "Aren't we going to alert Rebel Command?"

"I'd rather ask for forgiveness than permission, to be quite frank," Inej said, her fear only noticeable through the slight tension in her voice, "but I've left a message with Tamar- she wasn't picking up - and I will comm her again once we get there." She sat back from the navicomputer, her face weary. "We just have to get there first."

They were all staring out of the viewport as the ship jumped back to hyperspace. As the crew stood still for perhaps a moment longer than necessary, watching the blue swirl, Jesper wondered whether they wouldn't have gone mad by the time they reached Tatooine.

Whether they weren't already mad for going there - and taking on Pekka Rollins - in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to note: what happened with Koroleva will be explained in the next chapter. And sorry for the probably high amount of errors in this - the website was acting up and it's my birthday today so I don't have much time (or patience) to deal with it.


	25. Episode XXV

"I was about to end that Jedi once and for all."

The hologram of the Emperor barely flinched at the knowledge. "I don't care. She is one Jedi. You can let the Inquisitors deal with her. I'm sure the Grand Inquisitor will embrace the task eagerly."

_Sergei._ "He knew Nazyalensky before the Purges. He would've known Zenik when she was a child. He would be-"

"Attached?" The corner of Morozova's mouth quirked upwards, and for a moment Koroleva was glad that the holograms were in blue. He'd demanded she take her helmet off for this discussion, and the colour would at least disguise in part the way her cheeks flushed at the mocking way in which he said the word. "I know he is. That's why he embraced the Dark Side so quickly, wasn't it? You killed the woman he secretly loved with all his pathetic little heart, and he hated you so much that he became a slave to his own passions. All his friends think him dead, but he became a slave to the Dark Side, and therefore, to _me_."

Once upon a time, he would've said _"us"._ But he no longer consider them a team.

_You are no longer entitled to your previous autonomy, your previous power; now, you are an extension of my will._

"The first Inquisitor: a Jedi killer." He sat back, and half of his face was shaded by his deep cowl. "His attachment brought him power, but he was controlled by it."

_A cog in the machine of the Empire._

"His _attachment_ will make it that much more painful for Zenik when he kills her. And, my spies report that she helped destroy the Death Star." He bared his teeth; the light caught them, like the glint of an unsheathed dagger. "I want it to _hurt_."

"It _would've_ hurt there and then," Koroleva snapped. Her knee ached from kneeling on it for too long. "I killed her padawan. She died knowing she'd failed to protect him, just as her master failed to protect her."

"Then let her drown in her sorrow," Morozova dismissed. "Her attachment will be her undoing - just as it was yours, and the Grand Inquisitor's - my apologies, _Sergei's_." There was a wicked twist to his mouth as he said that; she just stood, stoic. "Just as it was the entire Jedi Order's."

"Then _why_ did you order my forces to retreat?" She almost shouted the words, but knew that it wouldn't help anything.

He didn't answer: just looked at her for a moment. Then it hit her.

"It was a _test_."

She snarled the word, wild and feral.

"I wanted to see how well you suited your new position of following orders," he said impassively. "Even when every last one of your passions is chafing at the bit to do otherwise. You passed with flying colours." His grin was a little feral, too. "You are not a servant to your passions. You are a servant to _me_."

The way he looked at her. . .

Alina couldn't tell if the floor was beneath her knee or her feet, if she was kneeling or standing. The image her eyes gave her was superimposed by another: a clean, white room in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant instead of the dark one on her flagship. A room in which the large blue head of the Emperor was unwelcome, but not his expression. No, his expression - one of distinct disappointment and judgement - was shared by all the other occupants of the room, seated in chairs all around her like they were thrones, the cityscape of the planet laid out beyond the windows behind them. Although she was taller than them, when they were seated, she never felt smaller than she did in their presence.

And in the middle of those Jedi Masters, among the medley of different species, the oldest and wisest of them all. . .

"You know," she began, hating the way her voice broke, "the Jedi Council used to test me as well. _Especially_ Grandmaster Baghra." They'd never trusted her, despite believing her to be the prophesised 'Chosen One'. They hadn't liked her tendency toward _attachment._

The Emperor had gone completely still. "Do not compare me to that woman."

His mother. The Grandmaster of the Order, the greatest Jedi who ever lived, who cast the longest shadow of all. Which was no doubt the reason, Koroleva had theorised, that little Aleksander had left the shelter of the temple and searched for something _more._ More strength, more fame.

More power.

He'd found it, and found he didn't like the loneliness it brought with it.

"Really," she drawled, before she could think. The vocoder made it sound much more deadpan than she could have ever achieved alone. "Because from my position," on her knee, on the ground, being judged, _subservient_ , "I see no difference."

Grand _master_ Baghra. Her _master,_ the Emperor. Master, master, master.

She was sick of it.

If it hadn't been such a shithole, she might have missed Jakku, the freedom she'd had there.

Morozova's face contorted into a snarl and he lifted his hand; she flinched reflexively. His favourite punishment was, of course, to shoot violet Force Lightning out of his hands and hit her, until her nerves were on fire and her cells were fried and she was being cooked from the inside out. . .

But he could only do that in person. This was a holocall. She was safe, for now.

He lowered his hand. "We will continue this discussion at a later date." His voice was a whiplash; she could hear the darkness coiling around every syllable, the anger, searching for someone to punish. "I have already dispatched my Hand to deal with the Jedi and her friends - the Wraith in particular. She's an annoyance I'd like to see the end of. In the meantime, do not fail me again." He set his jaw and glowered. "Or there _will_ be consequences."

In the moments before the call disconnected, despite the blue-tinted hologram, she could've sworn his eyes glowed yellow.

* * *

The holo she was holding was scuffed with age, the grainy quality a mark of how long ago it was taken. But Inej didn't need fantastic detail to make out the three figures: a father and his two sons, one barely out of his toddler years. Nor did she need colour to see the dark eyes and hair, the naturally milk-white skin long since tanned by the merciless suns, the harsh bone structure that Kaz still sported even today.

_We'll save you,_ she promised. _Soon, we'll get you out of there._

Then she switched it off and tucked the holo into the pocket of her jacket. She might've felt an ounce of guilt for stealing a holo she'd randomly found in a drawer upon arrival, but she needed the support it offered.

She needed a reminder of what she was here for.

Inej had always hated Tatooine. She'd hated it whenever her parents had visited as a child, she'd hated it when she'd been forced to. . . _work._ . . there, and she'd hated it when she'd had to visit it to track down Kaz all those months ago. It was too hot, with too much sand, and too little hope.

_At least this homestead only has two of those things_ , she mused, glancing around. They'd set up camp in the abandoned farmer's homestead Kaz always used as a smuggling base - "a home away from the _Barrel_ ", as Jesper had dubbed it - where he'd left the _Barrel_ when he went to negotiate with Pekka, and while it was plenty hot, with plenty of sand, there was also an abundance of hope present.

One that was quickly dwindling, however.

"Are you _sure_ there's no back door we can sneak in?" Nina asked Jesper again, gesturing to the map crudely drawn into the sand on the floor, as if they hadn't had this conversation three times already in the past hour.

Jesper just huffed, and repeated what he'd said all the other times before: "No. There's only one way in or out, and it's a metre-thick durasteel door which is opened from the inside. The passage you have to walk down after you get through that door is patrolled by Gamorrean guards." His tone was brittle; both he and Nina seemed exponentially more on edge than usual. "Only _then_ can you get into the throne room, which, by the way, is also filled with guards and bounty hunters."

"The guards aren't any problem," Nina said darkly, flexing the fingers of her right hand. Inej suddenly had a disturbing, violent image of her friend closing those fingers around someone's throat, except _not_ \- her fingers closed around thin air, far away from her victim's delicate neck, but they choked anyway. "Nor are bounty hunters. But that door might be." She tapped the symbol on the rough schematics that represented it. "How are we going to get Pekka to let us in?"

Silence fell in the homestead, until Inej could hear the shifting of the desert dunes outside. It was shady and cool inside the structure, but the sand still permeated her clothes, scratched at her skin. Sweat beaded on her brow and her lips and she found herself, by habit, growing very, very still.

Images flashed by: images of a darkness that was more than a lack of light and a heat that was more than the heat of the sun and she instinctively tried to push them away, tried to not be here, to not be on this planet of all places, the planet where everything happened-

_So that's why I'm so eerily calm about this whole situation_ , Inej observed, ironically enough, in a very detached manner. _I'm dissociating._

Because if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to think of Kaz, would only think of-

Of-

_That._

"Nina's right," Wylan said into the silence. Inej suspected it was only to make sure something was said, but she was grateful for it anyway as she turned away from the corner to kneel next to Nina on the floor. "There's no way we're getting through that door."

"Surely Inej could do it," Matthias said, turning his hopeful eyes on her. She wanted to cringe. She had the funny feeling that after the capability she'd shown at Concord Dawn and on Hoth he'd started to overestimate her capability in situations she was more. . . _personally._ . . attached to.

Like this one.

"You're the Wraith! Surely you could sneak in and let Kaz out."

"I. . ." She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could she say, anyway? That the darkness of that palace featured in her nightmares? That it represented a time when she'd needed to be rescued, herself?

When she hadn't been the Wraith, but just a scared teenage girl?

She opened her mouth again to explain, to say that she couldn't do it, that there was no chance in _Hell_ that she was _going back in there-_

Nina's hand clasped her own and squeezed it. "Inej and Kaz used to work for Pekka, remember? They'd recognise her. For all we know, that slug's gone and put a bounty on her, too."

All the breath left Inej's body at once and she lowered her head to hide the tear tracks on her cheeks. Everyone had conceded the point and moved on now, their attention diverted to the map on the floor, but Nina squeezed her hand again. Inej squeezed back.

She'd mainly managed to get the trembling in her shoulders under control by the time Matthias said, "Speaking of bounties, wasn't Jesper already working for Kaz when he dumped that shipment?" He looked up at the smuggler in question, eyes narrowed. "How do we know you've not got a bounty on you, as well?"

"He has." There was a strange tone to Wylan's voice; Inej, eyes still rimmed with red, glanced up at him. It sounded suspiciously like hope. "Jesper's more and more likely to get snapped up by a bounty hunter the longer he stays on this planet. But _we can use that to our advantage_."

He met Inej's gaze, eyes wide and full of fervour. It hit her suddenly that she was still the de facto leader of their little band of Rebels - she'd been the one to assemble it, all those months ago, and she was still the one they looked to for guidance.

So she leaned forward, head cocked with interest. "I'm listening."

* * *

"Which bounty hunter are we taking out?" Nina whispered, crouching onto the rooftop beside her friend. She didn't know how Inej did this everyday: she'd had to use several Force-powered jumps just to get up this far, let alone keep her balance, and as much as a believer Inej was, she did not have that blessing going for her.

Inej kept her frame ducked low as she pointed across the street, at a cantina directly across from them. "There. Oomen."

Nina lifted her pair of macrobinoculars and peered through them. She could make out one of the patrons of the cantina near the door: skinny, slight and sinister. " _That's_ Oomen?" She felt more than saw the grimness to Inej's face as she nodded; her friend tensed up next to her, knuckles white as she clutched the blaster at her waist. "He doesn't look like much."

"No, he doesn't," Inej agreed. "But he's tougher than he looks. Might even give me a run for my money."

Nina frowned as she surveyed him through the macrobinoculars. "He's too thin, I'll never fit into his armour. His helmet, maybe, but. . . Why target him?"

She felt Inej tense against her even more. Hardly daring to breathe, Nina probed her gently through the Force and almost physically recoiled at the amount of hate that was suddenly pent up inside her friend, waiting for an outlet.

"Because," Inej said through gritted teeth, "he's the one who drove Kaz into walking right into Pekka's waiting grasp."

"Oh." Nina took a deep breath, but that angered her as well - less because of a protectiveness for Kaz, and more over one for Inej. This man was the reason Kaz had left? Oomen was why Inej was now alone? _He_ had been the one who meant she had to come back to Tatooine, a planet she clearly hated?

He'd forced Inej to remember experiencing something Nina didn't know the horrors of, because her friend had been _too traumatised to be able to tell her_ , he'd caused this whole debacle to start, he'd _made Inej cry_ -

"Nina, stop!"

The words were hissed in her ear - no doubt Inej didn't want to risk them getting caught, some distant part of her acknowledged - but they was washed way in the stream that flooded through her. She opened her eyes and her arm was out, her fingers and thumb curled so they weren't _quite_ clenched in a fist, and Oomen-

Oomen was choking.

Oomen had fallen to the floor of the cantina, grasping at his throat, choking, and Inej's was next to her, pleading, scrabbling at her arm, and the _terror-_

It wasn't Oomen's terror that dragged her out of it.

It was Inej's.

And when she dropped her hand, allowing Oomen to drop to the floor, winded and bruised but _alive,_ she looked at her friend.

Her friend, who had never looked at her that way before.

Who had never been scared of her before.

"Inej," Nina whispered, "I-" _I'm sorry I didn't mean to I swear I didn't mean to don't look like that please I can't bear it-_

Inej's hand brushed over her cheek - the cheek where the three sparks had scarred her during her duel with Koroleva, like tear drops. And then there were arms around her, and Inej was hugging her tightly. "Nina," she whispered. "Killing him won't bring Kuwei back."

Nina suppressed a flinch, and said in a shaky voice, "Nor will it free Kaz."

They looked at each other, and Nina's cheeks burned with tears as she watched those same tears stain Inej's own cheeks. She shuddered, and choked out, "I- I can't-"

Inej squeezed her tighter. "I know." Her words were just as hoarse. "Force, Nina, _I know_."

On the ground, Oomen had recovered. Nina hoped he assumed there'd been something in his drink, that it was cramps, and sure enough he didn't glance up at them, sitting like shadowy gargoyles on the rooftops.

It wasn't like he would think to, anyway.

It wasn't thought to be possible to choke someone without touching them, was it?

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I- I failed him. I won't fail you."

Inej's voice was close to her ear; her breath tickled to side of her face. "You never have, Nina." Nina closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. "And you never will." She sat back a little, just far enough for them to make eye contact. "Now, let's go take out a more convenient bounty hunter, shall we?"

Nina laughed, even as she swiped at the tears leaking down her face. Inej gracefully clambered to her feet and she followed suit, ready to jump to the next rooftop, to actually achieve the aims of this assignment.

Getting Kaz out of that hellhole was the first step to making all of this shit better, anyway.


	26. Episode XXVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter, and essentially the rest of the fic, for rape, violence, prostitution and slavery. The rape never actually happens, but it is implied, and the prostitution and the slavery is talked about a lot.

It was the next evening that they decided to spring their plan. Jesper tensed on instinct as Nina snapped the binders around his wrists; she tried to speak, to give him a few words of encouragement, but her voice came out through the vocoder in the helmet as low and gruff. It did very little to help his nerves.

It was Inej who clapped him on the shoulder then said, in a slow, meaningful voice that belied the nonchalance of the action, "For Kaz."

Jesper nodded, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "For Kaz."

Inej released his shoulder and stepped back to look at the two of them. Nina imagined they looked the part all right: bounty hunter and bounty, her face and body shape obscured by all the tech on the armour and helmet, Jesper's posture drooping and his face a little beaten up.

Matthias seemed to have taken a little too much glee in giving him the bust lip and black eye. "For not protecting Wylan better on Naboo," he'd said darkly, and Jesper's joking grin had dropped. Nina wondered if it was possible for Matthias to hate Jesper over that incident any more than Jesper already hated himself.

But, guilt or no guilt, the next few hours passed in a blur and before long they were standing in front of the massive metal door that led to Pekka's palace. Jesper disguised a shiver as they stood there and Nina used her reinforced gloves to knock. The sound rang out like a gong and vibrated through their very bone marrow; idly, Nina wondered if Inej could hear it from where she was in position around the back.

A droid activated on the door's surface; a disdainful phrase spat in Huttese, and Nina had no idea what it had just asked her but she just recited the phrase Inej and Jesper had grilled her on before coming.

"De wanna wanga," she said haltingly, but infused it with enough entitlement and arrogance that she no doubt passed for a bounty hunter any day. "Kilya murishani killie noah Jesper Fahey. Mendee-ya jah-jee bargon - ku meete moulee-rah me."

_Greetings. The loyal bounty hunter has captured Jesper Fahey. We have a deal - you owe me money._

She spat the words out of her mouth. Huttese was a crude language. But she really hoped Inej had got the translation right. She _had_ muttered something about "captured" being the same as "not killed" in Huttese. . .

_"Murishani,"_ the droid spat out, then pulled back again and the slot it had exited through slammed shut, leaving them in the harsh sunlight.

Nina murmured to Jesper, "What did it say? Did _I_ say the right thing?"

"Yeah, you were great," Jesper murmured back. "And the droid just said 'bounty hunter' before it shut off. Can you tell if anyone's coming?"

Nina stretched out with the Force - and felt three life forms approaching from the other side of the door. "Yes, they're coming. They don't feel all that homicidal, either." She fixed Jesper with a look that she knew he couldn't see from under the helmet. "And if you tried, _you_ could too."

"Is _now_ really the best time for Jedi training?"

"Any time is good for Jedi training."

Despite the situation, Jesper let out a quiet laugh. "I doubt I'll ever become a Jedi Master if I only get training sessions when I've been caught by Pekka the Hutt."

"At least you're a master of getting caught." She grinned as he scowled, then the doors swept open and they slipped back into their respective roles again.

The Gamorrean guard who grunted at them was as repulsive as ever. Nina had no idea what he was saying - she caught herself wishing it was Inej, who was experienced in all of this, playing this role, before reminding herself what Inej had told her just last night, the thousand reasons why she _couldn't_ \- but she just pursed her lips and smiled grimly, before realising that her face was covered by the helmet they'd stolen off that unfortunate bounty hunter. She nodded instead as the guards waved her to walk inside, then closed rank behind her as she did. For a moment, she felt trapped.

_You are in control here,_ she reminded herself as the door closed and the corridor was plunged into shadows. It was chilly in here, sheltered from the harsh suns. She flexed her right hand, felt through the Force the beating hearts of all the life forms around her, the thrum of blood through their necks and the rasp of air in and out of their lungs. . .

Inej's terrified face flashed in front of her eyes. _Killing him won't bring Kuwei back._

But it was comforting, knowing that no matter what, _she_ had some sort of power over these lowlife scum. Even if it meant accepting that this ability of hers, used to do good and make her own life plus the lives of others better, could be used for such evil.

_I guess I already knew that anyway._ She scowled under the helmet. Why did her thoughts always lead her back to Alina Starkiller?

She hated the throne room before she even stepped into it - and she wasn't the only one. She felt Jesper stiffen beside her as even he, with only the limited training they'd managed on the hyperspace flight here, picked up on the hot, cramped stench of life and pain and torment oozing from the place. It was enough to make her dizzy.

It got worse when they actually entered. The room was massive, with too many corners and too many randomly placed curtains - too many shadows. The sheer amount of _life_ confused her, because there was _so_ _much_ , but she couldn't _see_ any of it; the people slunk around at the side, in small knots of people, so while Nina's Force sense was sent reeling, all her eyes saw was a writhing mass of _flesh_. Music filled the room - there was a band of Biths playing in the corner - and people of all species were dancing. One woman in particular stood out: a human woman who couldn't be much older than Inej, with skin like ivory and hair like amber, dressed in utilitarian clothing too expensive and well-kept for her to be a mere bounty hunter.

But she _looked_ like one, _stood_ like one, stance stiff, eyes scanning the crowd periodically, just as Nina was doing now.

Nina tore her gaze away just before she noticed her noticing her, and moved on.

The room itself was as rundown as Inej had described; if Nina hadn't known the _exact_ number on the bounty Kaz and Jesper carried, or seen the numerous people trying to kiss up to him, she would've assumed Pekka didn't _have_ much money. But the drapes were of good quality, there was a filthy protocol droid in the corner - _thank goodness, I won't have to speak purely Huttese_ \- and who kept an expensive (not to mention repulsive) creature such as a _rancor_ beneath a grate in the floor?

And then there was Pekka himself.

If Nina hadn't already felt nauseous, she would have when she looked at him.

She'd never seen a Hutt in person before, and she had to admit she'd never expected them to be quite so. . . big. He never seemed to end: he had the body of an overgrown slug, but as he sat on the dais he had to be twice as tall as Nina, who was by no means short. There was so much _flesh_ : it sagged out across the dais, somewhere between brown and pink in colour, the very end of his tail twitching in time with the arms on his torso which were, Nina had to note, surprisingly small in proportion to the rest of him. His eyes reminded her of the mud pies she used to make with the other younglings at the Temple, except they were size of ornate dinner plates and lazily slid around the room; they alighted first on his major-domo, then the small bowl of (live) snacks at his arm, then to his own body. . .

No, Nina realised with revulsion. At a young human women forced to press herself against his body. She was pale, though whether that was because of the lack of sun in here or the terror she felt, Nina didn't know. Her clothing consisted only of a metal bikini and a thick collar at her throat, with a chain attached with it that led straight to the bottom of Pekka's throne.

Nina wanted to throw up.

Was this what Inej had been talking about, when she'd described what she'd gone through before joining the Rebellion? She and Nina had had this conversation the night before, in explanation for Inej's peculiar behaviour since coming to Tatooine: _Inej_ had been a sex and dancing slave to Pekka the Hutt before Kaz had bought her and freed her because he thought she'd make a good smuggler.

Nina had said she'd understood, but she knew nothing. She knew _nothing_ , she realised, feeling bile rise in her throat as she looked at the woman. She knew _nothing_ , nothing about exactly how evil the world could get, because _this_ -

_This_ -

They were still standing by the doorway when the music shut off suddenly.

Pekka yanked on the chain around the poor slave girl's neck and she stumbled to her feet, glancing at him with wide eyes.

_"Noah!_ " she shouted desperately. Nina's blood ran cold. She knew enough Huttese to understand that: _No_.

Pekka said something else, then hit a button in the arm of his chair. And the grating in the floor slid back.

The slave girl was still screaming, _"Noah! Noah!"_ when she stumbled off the side of the grating and fell.

The rancor Nina had sensed earlier roared.

The slave girl didn't scream again.

They had a plan, Nina reminded herself, turning her attention back to Pekka and resisting the urge to crush his throat. _We have a plan, Inej needs us to carry out this plan,_ we have a plan _-_

Pekka shouted something - presumably to bring him another slave to torture and torment and kill, Nina thought, rage boiling s she thought of Pekka flailing in his own rancor pit, screaming himself as his pet tore chunks of flesh right off his body-

Her thoughts ground to a halt as she saw the woman who was brought in. Dressed in a metal bikini similar to the other's, shoulders hunched in, terror that was of a highly personal nature screaming from a usually quiet mind.

Nina stopped breathing.

It was Inej.

* * *

Inej had a mantra. It kept her thoughts on track, her hands from shaking, her heart from giving up. It was the same one she'd told Jesper:

_For Kaz._

For Kaz, who'd saved her from despair. For Kaz, who'd come back for her over the Death Star. For Kaz, who'd given her candlewick blossoms.

It was the rhythm that steadied her footsteps as she crept over the rooftops of Mos Eisley. _For Kaz._

Nina and Jesper were already in position. Her only job was to establish that Pekka still _had_ Kaz, and hadn't just executed him the moment Oomen caught him.

Which, Inej mused sourly, would've been a very real possibility had Kaz worked for any of the other Hutts. The Hutt Clan wasn't exactly known for being patient.

But there was a reason Pekka had the power he did. Three, to be precise.

One: He was athletic. He'd been an extremely formidable fighter in his prime, and everyone who'd fought him person-to-person had died. He'd let himself go these past few hundred years, though, as Inej understood it - _thank the Force for Hutts' longevity_ \- so hopefully they wouldn't get much of a physical fight out of him.

Two: He was ruthless. He didn't care who he had to kill or execute or double-cross to get his message sent. He would do it, and laugh as he wiped the blood off his face.

And the third? He was smart.

Not just with computers and gadgets and fancy heists - that was the mark of a small-time criminal, not an overlord the likes of Pekka. No; he was smart about _people_ as well.

He knew how to manipulate them, which buttons to press to get them to comply. He never forgot a face, was excellent at putting the pieces together. Inej was good at the latter herself; she was an intelligence officer, and monitored information coming in from a myriad of sources at any given time. But Pekka was brutal about it. He knew exactly how to sway the masses to his side, be it out of fear or greed.

It was never out of love.

He knew exactly whose execution would make him look the most powerful. Inej lifted the traits in her head. Renowned criminals, revered criminals, criminals with rumours circulating about them. . .

Sure enough, Kaz ticked all the boxes.

So he wasn't dead. Not yet.

And it was Inej's job to keep it that way.

The rough stone of the Mos Eisley rooftop seemed to suck all the warmth from her hands. She paused to wrap some cloth around them. She remembered this about Tatooine: the nights were as cold as the days were hot, and if one extreme didn't get you, the other would.

But she was prepared for this - her Rebellion-issue jacket was extremely effective about keeping out the cold - so she pushed on and eyed the small knot of smugglers laughing raucously in the middle of the cool night. And next to them. . .

Inej crept closer, closer than advised, but she had to see, had to _know_ -

Slaves.

Slaves huddled next to each other, clearly cold in the desert night. They stood next to a stall that was about to close for the evening - produce that the shopkeeper hadn't managed to sell that day.

The bottom fell out of her stomach.

Of course they were slaves. This was Mos Eisley, Tatooine. Why was she so surprised?

She glanced over her shoulder. She should leave. She should run, far away from this place, confirm that Pekka still had Kaz, then leave before she did something stupid-

Her hand slipped.

She'd crept too close. She'd leaned too far forwards. She scrambled back up the roof in a heartbeat, but couldn't stop the minute gasp from escaping her as she did.

Couldn't stop it from being noticed.

"What was that?" Pekka's smugglers were murmuring amongst themselves now, scanning the area with their hands on their blasters.

She shrank backwards, hoping, praying-

"Eh, must've been a night breeze."

A sigh of relief.

The Force had smiled on her today. She should back off, get to safety, _fulfil her mission_ , before her luck ran out.

But her gaze lingered on those slaves.

Their binders were of the same quality as anything else on this desolate rock: poor. And the slaves themselves were close enough that she could set her blaster in the sniper configuration and shoot the binders just right, breaking them each independently. Once one shot went off, it would probably start a panicked riot, but if she was quick, she could finish the job before people managed to react.

Inej was unpacking her blaster before she gave it a second thought. She could-

_No._

Slaves were given implants upon enslavement - transmitters. She knew that. Shooting them into freedom would only chase them outside of the transmitter's range, thus activating the bomb. She would give them freedom, but it would be short and painful. It would be bleeding to death on the merciless desert sands.

Unconsciously, her hand had drifted towards her collarbone, the scar there. She remembered feeling her own deactivated transmitter in her hand once Kaz had cut it out, remembered crushing in under the heel of her new boots, the ones Anika had bought. She could hear the boots creaking as she walked, the way all smugglers' boots did.

She couldn't do anything for these people. She dropped her blaster back down to the side, then froze.

There was the creak of boots - exactly as she remembered it. Was it just a figment of her imagination?

No, she realised, a chill snaking its way down her back. It was real, it was real, and it was coming from behind-

A hand wrapped itself around her plait and _yanked_.

She gasped, much more loudly now, and with more than a bit of a scream in the sound. A thick forearm came across her chest, putting pressure on her throat, and she struggling for breath, mouth opening and closing like a fish, until-

Well. It's difficult to open one's jaw any further when it has a blaster pressed up against it.

_Calm_ , she breathed to herself. _Stay calm._

She scrabbled at the arm holding her in place, seeming frantic, desperate, even as her foot slowly slid along the roof, seeking purchase, then-

Her attacker howled as she stamped down on his toes and released her momentarily, but a moment was enough. She leapt off the roof to land on the street below, blaster already drawn and spitting plasma bolts. Kaz had taught her to be a quick draw; three of the seven smugglers that had gathered in a knot around her soon fell, smoking holes in their heads and torsos, but there were still four left, and they were quick draws as well.

She shifted left, right, _duck_ , red plasma bolts shooting past her, until one struck her in the shoulder and she staggered back, the bolt's path carving a burning furrow in her flesh-

"Stop," said a voice above them - her original attacker, still on the roof. "She's worth more to us alive."

Now she recognised the voice. _Oomen._

The other smugglers were none too pleased at the concept of letting her live - _I_ did _just take down three of their squad -_ but Oomen was clearly in charge here. They lowered their weapons.

"You too, Ghafa," Oomen said. A shudder ran down her spine - he _knew her name_. "Drop your blaster."

She was surrounded. If she provoked them, they could put more holes in her than Iego had moons before she even blinked.

She dropped her blaster.

The moment it was no longer cocked and ready to fire at the slightest twitch, one of the smugglers on the ground reached out to grasp her chin; she jerked away, glaring, but didn't resist when one of them clipped a pair of binders around her wrists.

"She's a pretty thing, I'll give you that," he said, and Inej had to resist the urge to close her eyes, had to ground herself in reality, because she'd already heard those words and she didn't want to remember where she'd heard those words- "But she's probably more trouble than she's worth, as a slave. I vote we shoot her, not sell her."

"And that, Gerrigan, is why you're reliant on me to get the big money from our employers," Oomen drawled, then dropped off the roof and shouldered his way into the ring. His eyes surveyed Inej from top to bottom as he continued, "But I'm not surprised you don't recognise her. Inej Ghafa here used to be Brekker's partner; they were of a calibre far above yourself. But, as I know it, Ghafa hasn't been back to Tatooine since their partnership ended."

"Probably here to save Brekker."

"Probably," Oomen conceded, then viewed her with narrow eyes, "but Brekker and Ghafa were the smartest team around. Far smarter than to take on Pekka. Not to mention, this _isn't_ the first time she's been back to this dustball in the past few months, has it, Ghafa?"

She kept her face steeled and impassive.

"She came back less than a year ago - to hire _Brekker_ , of all people. Then left with TIE fighters on her tail." Some of her shock must have been betrayed through her face, because Oomen gave a faint smile. "Oh, don't think we didn't recognise you. But this is when it really gets interesting."

He tapped her nose; she bared her teeth in a snarl.

"Because after that, rumours began circulating that the Imps had gone after not just any Rebel, but the Wraith herself. That's why they were all over this spaceport. Imagine all the secrets kept up in her pretty head."

Blasters all around the vicinity were instantly primed and aimed. Only this time, Inej knew, they'd been set to stun. "You think she's the _Wraith_? The top intelligence spy in the Rebellion?"

"I do." Oomen looked satisfied, like her lack of response had been all the answer he needed. "And now the question is not only why she's here-"

"Pekka just made that deal with Koroleva, didn't he? She's probably here investigating that."

Inej's ears (metaphorically) pricked up at that, but she took care to keep it off her face. Oomen, looking only vaguely disgruntled at being interrupted, nodded. "Probably - and she'll probably try to rescue Brekker whilst she's here. The Alliance always repays its debts. It's actually quite a reliable client. We could sell her back to them and make quite a profit." His head tilted to the side ever so slightly. "And that brings me back to the other question: Who will pay us the most for her?"

"The Empire has a ten million credit bounty on her head," Gerrigan spoke up.

Oomen barely spared him a disdainful glance. "That's the bounty for a member of Rebel High Command, sleemo, and anyway, the Empire's running out of credits _fast_ , thanks to the Alliance. That number's dropped significantly in recent months." He turned his gaze back to Inej, who took an instinctive half-step back. "No, I think with that deal he just made with the Empire, Pekka will want these sorts of secrets as compensation, to keep them true to their end of the bargain. _And_ he's rich. I say we sell her to him."

No.

She wouldn't.

She would sooner give the _Empire_ her secrets than _Pekka the Hutt_.

She refused to go back there, into the stench of his palace, the hot, writhing darkness-

She'd moved before she even thought about it. Oomen - head-butted in the face, nose broken. The smuggler behind her - legs kicked from underneath him. The one next to him - sucker punched in the face after his stray blaster shot hit the binders at her wrists and released them.

Three down, two left, so she _ran_. Made a break for it up the street, zigzagging from left to right, then-

Her nerves shuddered as a stun shot soaked into her back and she hit the ground face-first.

She tasted blood. Her front teeth had gone right through her lip.

_Get up. Get up get up get up._

She'd been stunned before. She'd been trained in how to shake them off-

But then she heard, "Rebels never work alone," and another stun shot had her sinking to the ground, and another one had the world guttering like a candle, then being blown out.

She was barely conscious when they fitted binders on her again.

She was barely conscious when she heard them conversing with Pekka's major-domo in Huttese and she could only make out a few words.

And she wasn't even fully conscious just over an hour later, even though the effects of the stun bolt had long since worn off, as she was shoved down next to Pekka the Hutt and forced to watch her friends bargain for not just one life, but two.

The chain around her neck was just as heavy as it was in her nightmares.


	27. Episode XXVII

Nina, to be quite frank, had a bad feeling about this.

Inej's face was wan, her lips slightly parted, and she was staring at nowhere in particular, gaze transfixed by a point no one else could see.

Yes, Nina had a _very_ bad feeling about this.

But she had to continue with the plan, anyway.

"Lord Pekka," she said, the vocoder in her helmet twisting her voice beyond all recognition. "I'm here to collect the bounty on Jesper Fahey." She gripped his shoulder a little tighter as she said it; he grimaced, and she tried to relax as she waited for Pekka's response.

It was not what she had been expecting.

"Take off your helmet."

He even said the words in Basic, when she hadn't even known he could _speak_ Basic, to _make sure she understood_.

She didn't understand.

She froze, then stuttered. "What?" A chanced glance at Inej revealed she still didn't seem entirely lucid.

Nina was on her own.

Pekka said something in Huttese, his tone clipped and impatient, and the ancient silver protocol droid stumbled forward to translate.

"The honourable Pekka wishes that you take off your helmet, in light of recent information received that there may be Rebels in the area looking to rescue a rather important prisoner of his." Pekka inclined his head towards the corner, where, she noted with growing anger Oomen leaned against the wall as if he had no care in the world.

The bottom dropped out of Nina's stomach. They'd been found out.

They were doomed.

She looked at Inej again - _help us, there has to be a plan, you have a plan, right?_ \- at exactly the same time Pekka did. And for a moment, Nina forgot everything other than the look he gave her.

It was victory. It was greed. It was the look of a Hutt who'd found an easy way to get rich.

He knew who Inej was.

He knew what secrets she could tell him - he could _make_ her tell him.

And for a moment, seeing Inej's obvious trauma, imagining what Pekka was planning to do to her to make her comply, Nina snapped. Some cord deep down inside her just _snapped_ , and she was left freefalling with an odd semblance of calm. An odd semblance of control.

The bravado of a dead woman.

She smirked to herself, even if no one could see it under the helmet. "As you wish." Jesper's arms were tense as she slid her hands down them to surreptitiously release the binders.

Then she lifted her hands and removed her helmet.

She paid no heed to the cacophony of gasps around the room, but she _did_ give Jesper's hand a gentle squeeze in reassurance. He squeezed back, before steeling his posture and lifting his chin.

Nina lifted hers, too, if only so she could look Pekka in the eye. She didn't know what species the bounty hunter they'd stolen this armour from had been - hadn't recognised it when they'd stripped it off his unconscious body - but she knew it wasn't human, and the incredulity of the onlookers rang clear and bright in the Force. She pushed it aside, even as she raised her hand to tuck some of her hair behind her ear; no longer trapped inside the helmet, it was beginning to flop around her face.

Pekka narrowed his eyes at her, but gave no order to attack, and for a moment Nina remembered what Inej had warned them of: _Pekka never forgets a face._

There was a high possibility he'd seen hers before, albeit a much younger version. She'd been fifteen: she and Zoya had been passing through Mos Eisley for passage when their luck had run out, and they'd been stranded on this hellhole for three days until they found a ship they could stowaway on. In that time, they'd fended off a _lot_ of attackers - far more than even a cesspit like Tatooine could be expected to provide. They'd even had to whip out their lightsabers once or twice.

Not long after that, Koroleva had killed Zoya. Nina had never been able to shake the feeling Pekka had recognised the two of them from holos, and sold the information to the highest bidder: the Empire.

Now, their stare off stretched into infinity, and it was a thousand years later that Pekka smirked and said in Huttese, "Jedi _poodoo_."

Then an order was given, and the blasters were turned on them.

The bravado of a dead woman evaporated; Nina very much wanted to survive this, and get all of her friends out of it with her. He'd recognised her, alright, she was in danger - as was Inej, as was Jesper, as was Kaz - but at least Matthias and Wylan weren't here yet, were _safe_ , or at least as safe as one could get when within Pekka Rollins's purview.

So she relaxed, felt the Force flow through her, and everything slowed. She didn't know what the order had been, but it must have been to keep them alive, because the blasts that she ducked, dodged, twisted to avoid were blue rings which buzzed and fizzled out quickly. She reached for her lightsaber, hidden under her cloak, and drew it, the magenta blade painfully bright against the dinginess of the room, before tossing Jesper Kuwei's.

Then it was nothing but duck, slash, hit, bat, and then Nina's left hand was reaching out, shaped like a pincer, searching for a person, just one person-

Oomen started choking, then the ivory and amber not-a-bounty hunter, both of them lifted up into midair, kicking, and the rush it gave Nina was intoxicating. She wanted to squeeze tighter, until they no longer choked but lay motionless on the ground. She dropped her lightsaber and lifted her other arm, even as Jesper's bright blue still danced and slashed around her, and then Pekka the Hutt, sleemo, _poodoo_ , was choking as well, flabby limbs flapping wildly, one of them smacking Inej in the head and out of her trance, until she scooted away to avoid it, stared up at her tormentor with an uncharacteristic amount of delight on her face.

"I am no Jedi," Nina said fiercely, heady with the swirl of emotions inside her, and then-

Then a blaster barrel was pressed to her head. "Drop them."

She didn't recognise the voice, but she shifted her gaze to her right, where Jesper was in a similar position, Kuwei's lightsaber clipped to the belt of the person holding him. He stared at Nina, eyes wide, lips wan, as they were both forced to their knees.

She dropped them.

Pekka still seemed to be having problems with speech, so it was his major-domo who spoke next. "Bring them to the sail barge. They'll be executed along with Brekker."

Inej was staring at them both, mouth open and horrified. She looked like she was about to cry.

Nina's gaze sank to the floor, ashamed.

"W- What _was_ that?" Jesper whispered beside her. "That wasn't the Jedi way."

"I already said-"

"I know," he cut her off. "But _Nina_." His voice shook. "Your eyes flashed yellow."

She closed her eyes then, and felt tears burn her retinas. Yellow eyes were only ever sported by the Sith and other Dark Side users.

Fear and anger and hatred were of the Dark Side. And it had been _so close_ , when she was choking those bastards, _demons_ , _people who deserved all they got_ -

It had been so _easy_.

She'd thought she knew what she was getting into when she started this shit.

Maybe she'd been wrong.

* * *

"Jesper?" came the harsh, clipped syllables of his name. Clearly, Kaz's eyes had already adjusted to the darkness of their shared cell. "What ill-fated escapade got you landed in here with me?"

A moment of silence, then-

"You came to rescue me, didn't you?"

Jesper's silence was damnation enough. Kaz sighed, and it was the sound Jesper always wished he could never hear again: Kaz's disdain was an _awful_ thing to have directed at you.

"It was Inej's idea!"

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Kaz grumbled, seeming genuinely annoyed that the woman who everyone (else) knew loved him had come to rescue him from execution. "Her heart's always been too soft for smuggling." Despite the fact that the words were criticism, he failed to make them actually sound. . . well, critical. "Yours too. But I was hoping someone _sensible_ would interfere - General Kir-Bataar, maybe."

"She didn't know we were coming until we got here."

Kaz sighed again. "Great. Inej finally starts going against orders, and it's to do _this_."

"I'll have you know, we _do_ have a plan in place."

"And how well is that going, at this moment in time?"

"Not ideal, but not bad, actually."

"What?" Kaz scoffed. "You can't be the only one who got captured."

"No," Jesper admitted. "I came in with Nina; she was taken to another cell, somewhere. Presumably as a backup pleasure slave, in case Inej isn't to his liking." He felt Kaz tense next to him. "I don't know how Inej got into that situation, before you ask. I just know that she got caught, and now Pekka thinks he can get her to tell him all the secrets she carries."

_"What."_ Kaz's voice was a hoarse, gravelly whisper; his eyes were blown so wide that Jesper could see their whites even in the darkness. "No. Inej _can't_ be-" He cut himself off. "Why would she put herself through that for me?"

The question was plaintive, but Jesper could hear Kaz's breaths turns to gasps, imagine his heartbeat racing, him running his hands through his hair, face a state of utter panic. Because of Inej. Because he was afraid for her.

Jesper didn't pretend to know the full extent of Inej's experiences here, but he could infer enough to know that whatever they'd been, they weren't pretty.

There were gasps and stamped feet from beyond the grate in the cell door.

"Inej. . ." Kaz murmured. There was the sound of a hand colliding with someone's face, then a shrill scream, louder and longer than any natural one. One that was sure to grab someone's attention.

It sounded like-

"Inej!" Kaz was at the door now, peering through the bars in the small window. Inej pivoted on one foot, despite the goons trying to drag her one way of another, then grabbed the bars of the door and held tight, until their breaths turned to grunts when they couldn't dislodge her.

"Kaz!" There was an urgency in her face, Jesper noticed, a sort of relief as her eyes roved over Kaz's features almost hungrily, like she couldn't believe he was alive. _She might've believed that Pekka wouldn't kill him, but she didn't know for sure._

Kaz reached out and covered the hand Inej had gripping the bars with his own. "Inej, why did you do it?"

"Come to rescue you?" Her voice was light but strained, like she was running on the last few dregs of adrenaline. "Isn't it obvious? You said it yourself." They yanked at her again and she grunted, pain twisting her face. Kaz's knuckles whitened. "It's what we do."

There was another yank, and this time they succeeded: Inej was sent flying back, where she collapsed onto her tailbone and tears ran down her face from the shock of it.

Onlookers jeered, but Inej kept Kaz's gaze, quiet and steady. "We come back for each other," she said, just before they dragged her away.

The tension in Kaz's shoulders drained with every inch of ground she was pulled across. By the time she was out of sight, his posture was slack, his expression lost, but he still clutched the bars with a white-knuckled grip.

* * *

Inej stumbled over her own feet again and bit back a cry. She'd already hurt her throat screaming so loudly in an attempt to find Kaz and get his attention; she didn't need to make it worse than it already was.

But she _hurt_. That conversation had taken everything out of her, and now she was battered and beaten and bruised.

A part of her welcomed the pain; it distracted from the cold of the chains digging into her skin, the heat of the flesh gripping her arms so tightly it hurt more and more each moment, staved off another panic attack. She was already soaked with sweat, her limbs trembling, and the pain was something to focus on. Something to ground her in reality.

Well, that and the information chip currently digging into her breasts.

Oomen had mentioned a deal Pekka had made with the Empire, something the Wraith would deem worthy of investigating. So she would investigate it.

Meaning that when Nina had Force-choked that oddly-refined bounty hunter, the one of ivory and amber, Inej hadn't just scrambled away from Pekka to avoid getting hit.

She'd scrambled away to grab the chip the woman had dropped as she flailed.

It could be nothing. It could be an empty chip. It could be a diary of a torrid romance, for all she knew. It could be _anything._

But that woman didn't look like your average grunt or bounty hunter. Her clothes were too high-quality, posture too refined. The way she looked around the room, like a predator stalking its prey. . .

And her eyes had been yellow. An acidic, angry yellow, one that was unnatural for a human to sport. Somewhere, in the depths of her mind, Inej remembered Nina's stories about Sith Lords and Dark Side users, about red lightsabers and eyes like fire. . .

The Gamorrean guard dragging her along tugged on the chain harder, and she almost tripped over her own feet again. She glowered, but allowed herself to be pulled along.

* * *

"Why did they wait all night to execute us?" Nina whispered to Jesper as they were both pulled along, Kaz on the other side of him. She winced as he was shoved, and staggered into her; everything ached from her extremely uncomfortable night in Pekka's less-than-hygienic cells, and she hoped there wouldn't be any fighting involved in her imminent death. She wasn't exactly in top shape, and it would be so embarrassing to be killed by something she could have easily avoided.

"I think," Jesper got out through gritted teeth, "they wanted to see if we could lure any other Rebels to our rescue, to root out any other threats to Pekka's pathetic excuse for a life." He grunted as he got a knock to the head for his frankness.

" _Did_ any other Rebels rush to our rescue?" Nina asked carefully. _Did Wylan and Matthias stick to the plan?_ was what went unspoken in the question.

Jesper shook his head. "Not that I've heard, no. Most are too sensible for that." A gentle rejoinder: _Have faith in their ability to follow orders._

"You're not," she grumbled. He huffed a quiet laugh at that.

But when they were heralded back into Pekka's throne room, there was no space for laughter. No time for it, either. She felt more than saw the attention of so many different species zero in on her at once; she tried to keep her head high, chin and nose in the air like a queen, but that meant she couldn't quite hide the quick bob of her throat.

They were pushed atop the grate on the floor Nina had noticed earlier, the metal clanging oddly with every stamp of their feet. Then the guards - one of whom had both their lightsabers at his belt, she noted - released them, hands still bound, to back off of it.

All except one.

One of them pressed something into Nina's hand, something hard and warm and rough, then something else, something hard and cold and round. She turned slightly, just to see the guard backing away in her peripheral vision - see the glint of gold hair behind their helmet.

_Matthias._

Nina's face tightened into a small grim smile.

* * *

Kaz could've talked. He could've shouted at Pekka, pleaded for mercy, hoped against all hope that seeing him brought low would be all the satisfaction the Hutt needed so he would allow the others to walk free.

But he knew better.

Pekka didn't have mercy. He drained the moisture farmers with his 'water tax' until they couldn't harvest enough to make any profit, so they and their families wasted away. He watched smugglers throw themselves against Imperial patrol after Imperial patrol because they feared his wrath more than the Empire's. And he _enjoyed_ it.

Pekka would take the knowledge that Kaz - against all common sense - cared about these people whom he'd seen suffer and die for a righteous but doomed cause, and use it against him. He would torture them; kill them in front of him; made sure their beliefs - that fire he'd spoken of to Inej - were turned on them and crushed to dust and shadows. Then he would rip the information he wanted from Inej before destroying her, too. She already lay in front of him up on the dais, watching them with her lips pressed tightly together.

Those parents she was so sure were still out there, still alive, would never know what had happened to her. Never know that their daughter was a hero.

Kaz wouldn't let that happen.

So he didn't beg.

He just stood there, silent and stoic, while the guard pressed something into Nina's hand, while Jesper's face twitched in anticipation, while Inej fended off her demons with the sense of purpose he could see in the hard line of her jaw.

He trusted them with their own lives, even with their dedication to saving his.

The realisation came slowly, then with more vigour: He trusted them. All of them.

They had a plan. It might (and probably would) fail, but there was a chance for Inej and Jesper, and all the other crazy Rebels who risked their own lives to save him.

All Kaz had to do was wait.

* * *

It started with an explosion.

Of course it did: Nina may be of the personal opinion shared by most Jedi that lightsabers were far more elegant weapons than blasters or thermal detonators, but that didn't mean she thought the latter two were useless. She'd found many uses for them over time.

Like terrifying the shit out of Hutts.

It was satisfying, hitting the button and hearing its ticking commence. Everyone in the room instantly tensed, glancing around from side to side, even as Pekka's back straightened - or at least, didn't sag quite so much.

No point in letting it blow before it had served its purpose. She snatched hold of the Force, wrapped it round her binders and broke them, bringing her hands round and holding the detonator up between her forefinger and thumb, for all the room to see. "Looking for this?"

The room stilled.

Something tugged on the detonator; Nina frowned, and clutched it tighter. She felt a ripple through the Force as that something tugged harder, and-

_Cold._

The Dark Side. Someone in this room was using the Dark Side.

"I think we all know what this is," she said loudly, mind still whirring. Was an Inquisitor here? She'd met a few of them before, mourned for a few of them before: they had once been padawans in the Jedi Temple with her, before they were caught by the Empire and used as slaves of the Dark Side. It could be one of them. . .

But few of them were as strong as this.

"I have another one here," she continued, lifting her other fist. They was a click beside her as she heard Jesper, after a few minutes of fumbling, unlocked his binders with the Force and made to work on Kaz's. "Unless you let me and my friends go - _all_ of them," she added, watching Inej, "-I'll detonate both of them." _Click_ as Kaz's binders released.

"That's no thermal detonator," a scornful voice cut in. Nina turned her head infinitesimally to see the ivory and amber bounty hunter eyeing the fist she'd only just raised. "It's just a rock."

She wasn't wrong, but Nina couldn't exactly admit that, could she? "It's a thermal detonator," she repeated, voice a little stronger, reaching into the Force and feeling the minds around her. Jedi mind tricks never failed. _It's a thermal detonator. . ._

"It's a rock," the bounty hunter repeated flatly, a smirk curving her lips.

Okay, sometimes they failed.

But this woman. . . Nina narrowed her eyes. She wasn't just strong-minded. She was strong in the Force.

_So_ this _is the Dark Side user,_ she mused. _Ah well, she can't stop us now._

She turned her attention back to Pekka. "Let us go," she reiterated, "or I'll set off them both, and we'll see who survives."

Pekka was already talking in an extended string of Huttese. His protocol droid hobbled forwards then began, in slow Basic, "The great and mighty Pekka says that mind tricks do not work on Hutts, and that just for trying it, Jedi scum, you will now be executed."

Pekka reached for the button at his side. Nina wasn't sure what it would do, but she doubted it would be good things.

So she acted.

In the blink of an eye, she'd flung the rock in her right hand towards Pekka - or, more specifically, his protocol droid. Every eye that wasn't drawn by the throw was drawn by the clang and cry of surprise as it collided with the droid's head and it fell backwards, off the raised dais Pekka sat on.

But Nina didn't spare it a whit of attention more than she had to - half a moment later she'd thrown the (still ticking) thermal detonator to her left, towards the ivory and amber woman. Her eyes blew wide in shock - yellow irises, Nina confirmed grimly - and she reached out a hand with the Force to stop it in midair before it hit her and ripped into her insides with all the fiery vengeance of a wrathful god. It hung there for a moment, motionless.

Then it exploded.

Nina flinched reflexively at the sound, bringing up her hands to deflect flying shrapnel, even moments before the searing heat baked the moisture out of the air and left her gasping for breath. But she was far enough away from the blast that she was unharmed.

The bounty hunter, on the other hand, was quite the opposite.

Nina couldn't feel her in the Force anymore, and she couldn't see her either, though admittedly the mass of charred and smoking bodies left behind after the explosion did make that rather difficult. She hoped she was dead. It would be so much more convenient if she was dead.

But she couldn't focus on that right now.

She couldn't focus on that, because Pekka was no longer distracted, and the floor was disappearing beneath her feet, and _oh so_ that's _what that button does. . ._

There were yelps beside her as Kaz and Jesper dived off the grate even as it folded beneath them, but she'd been in the centre of it and now she was falling into the pit the grate concealed, and-

A hand caught her wrist.

A familiar grunt. "Matthias?"

"I know you're great and all," he answered, voice muffled by the guard's helmet he wore as a disguise, "but falling into a pit below a crime lord's throne room seems like a bad idea."

"I agree." Her voice was breathless. "You going to help me up?"

"I'm. . . trying. . ." His voice dissolved back into grunts even as there was tugging on her arm. She tried to get a foothold on the side of the pit she was ground up against, but it was slippery and her foot couldn't get a grip; she fell against the wall with a _thump_ , a dull ache blossoming in her shoulder. "You're quite. . . heavy. . ."

"Heavier than that armour?"

"No. But. . . together. . ."

She nodded and shut her mouth. Brought up her other hand, reaching for a handhold, any handhold-

The world shook. "Matthias?"

"I can hold you," he insisted. "Steady. . ."

There was another shake - no, a _push_. She was dimly aware of a fight going on above - Kaz's anger, Inej's determination, Jesper's relief - and it was battering Matthias, knocking into him, making him lose his-

Another push.

For a moment, Nina felt weightless.

Then they both began to fall.


	28. Episode XXVIII

Inej knew what would happen the moment Pekka hit that button, and she knew exactly how to use it. Pekka loved killing people: that moment, the moment when he was most relaxed, most _vulnerable_ , she struck.

The chain in her hands felt cold as she looped it around his throat.

And then she _pulled_.

Hutts were flabby, but they were tough - there was a reason they were so powerful in the Outer Rim. The sheer strength it would take to asphyxiate a Hutt like Pekka to the point of death. . .

But she would do it. She _had_ to do it. For once, not for the Rebellion, or for her friends - they seemed to be doing fine on their own.

No, this was for _her_.

This was for the fourteen-year-old girl sold into slavery simply because she was curious. This was for the seventeen-year-old girl, recently freed by a young and upcoming smuggler, hacking her own transmitter out of her chest and taking pleasure in the agony of it. This was for her twenty-year-old self, stuck in this nightmare _again_ , and being _blasted tired of it_.

She screamed through gritted teeth. Her hands were blistered; her skin slippery with sweat; her eyes burned with the tears that gushed down her face, into the crook of her neck, under the stupid metal bikini they'd forced her in.

Tears were the lifeblood of this planet. The only water on a waterless world, the liquid the slavers drank while the enslaved suffered. But these tears weren't for them.

They, like all people, like all creation, _didn't belong to them_.

So she pulled. And something hard and hot and _angry_ inside her was swelling, swelling, swelling, until the skin on her hands was rubbed raw and blood mingled with her sweat and tears.

That was all Tatooine ever saw.

_Blood and sweat and blasted tears._

She hated this planet. She hated this planet, and she hated this evil, and she hated Pekka, so she pulled harder, harder, harder. . .

The strength needed the asphyxiate a Hutt was supposedly beyond the capability of a human - much less a relatively small female human, no matter what state of physical health she may keep her body in. But that seemingly indisputable fact did nothing to stop Pekka's lolling tongue from going still, his bulbous mass billowing and going slack in death.

None of his underlings had noticed yet. They were too busy dealing with her friends.

She sank onto the heels of her feet, fatigue setting in. Her arms ached, shoulders, legs, back. Her hands were on fire.

But all she felt was vicious satisfaction.

Pekka was dead.

Pekka was _dead_.

She laughed out loud.

But as a shift in position caused the chip between her breasts to dig in painfully, she was quickly snapped out of it. There was a cacophony of noise around her: screams, blasts, the roar of the thermal detonator still ringing in her ears. But Pekka was dead.

They'd - no, _she'd_ \- cut off the head of the snake.

Now it was time to let its body rot.

She glanced around, and watched as an Aqualish bounty hunter was sent stumbling back into her. There was a blaster at his belt.

She had no qualms about snagging it - he was bleeding out anyway - and it only took one bolt to break her chain and let her move around. A quick glance told her everything she needed to know about the room: Kaz had claimed two blasters and was dual wielding them, Jesper had somehow lost his lightsaber amidst the chaos, and Matthias and Nina had disappeared into the rancor pit.

She tensed her legs, ready to run, jump - anything. _Anything._

But something caught her attention.

The woman she'd stolen the chip from - the not-a-bounty-hunter of ivory and amber - was lying motionless on the ground.

Inej crept towards her.

* * *

The fall was a short one, but Matthias, being quite a bit heavier than Nina, found himself terrified that he was going to crush her.

He didn't. Nina shoved him away - presumably with the Force - and he landed hard on his left side instead, the side of his face implanted in muck.

"Ugh."

He wasn't sure if he or Nina was the one who said it, but the sentiment stood all the same. The place stank of blood and guts and gore, as well as something more unpleasant, something like. . .

"Oh, just admit it," Nina said. "Your face says it all - and what's on your face says it even louder. It smells like shit down here."

He lifted a hand to the guck covering his face. Was that. . .?

No. He didn't want to think about it.

He looked around the room. They were apparently in a pit level, a basement of sorts, because two of its walls were gates, criss-crossed with rusted iron bars, bound shut, and through them he could see more thugs and minions leering at them through the bars, apparently oblivious to the turmoil going on upstairs.

Then one of the gates began to grind open.

Matthias swallowed. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Agreed."

Matthias turned his gaze on her. "I could probably throw you back up to the top of the pit," he said, "if you do your thing and use the Force to help."

Nina wasn't impressed. "That would leave you down here."

Matthias held up his hands in a casualness he didn't feel; his heart was thumping in his chest. He had a _really_ bad feeling about this. "Hey, I've played my part: I supplied the weapons Wylan built. You haven't done yours yet. Once you have, and the room above has been pacified, _then_ you can worry about getting me out."

Nina narrowed her eyes. "You didn't do your job. You were supposed to give me two thermal detonators, not one detonator and a rock."

"We had to make the most of what resources we had. And I think you handled it spectacularly." He jerked a thumb upwards. "Now, you need to get back up there and continue handling it spectacularly. Kaz and Jesper are good, but even they can only last for so long against a crowd." He put out his hands for her to place her foot in, so he could launch her upwards.

"Inej is there to help," she grumbled, then they both stiffened at the rusted door gave another loud groan and stopped rising. There was thundering footsteps now, coming closer.

Matthias shook his head. "Just go!" He readied himself to throw. . .

"What is _that_?" The question slipped out unbidden.

The animal that emerged was something out of his worst nightmares. It vaguely resembled a half-skinned bull, except it was _bipedal_ , with horns too big for its head and a mouth that couldn't control its slobbering. And its teeth. . .

_Such big teeth. . ._

"A rancor," Nina said. "Matthias, maybe I should-"

"Go!" He threw her upwards as he said it; unprepared, she swore fluently as she flew through the air, but landed relatively unharmed on the floor above with a massive _oomph_.

Then Matthias turned his attention onto the rancor.

He'd heard of it before, of course. Rancors were used in many stories as the ultimate evil, the Dark Lord's servant or thug. It fit: this one was owned by Pekka, after all, and the thing certainly _looked_ like a thug. Matthias surveyed it as it thundered closer, considering his options.

First and foremost, his priority was to get back up to the battle; the others may need his help. And that could be done with the rancor alive _or_ dead.

He could try and scale its side, then use that as a foothold from which to jump to the floor above, he mused, but its hide looked slick with slobber and. . . filth. The same filth his face was covered in.

He didn't particularly _want_ to climb that, nor would he be able to hold on well with the beast bucking back and forth. He could use the beast as a stepping stool once it was dead, he supposed - if it fell to its knees, it would still be tall enough to help - but he didn't really want to kill it. Didn't want to get _close_ to it.

He glanced behind the beast, at the gate it had come through, but that gate had already closed. The one behind him was no different; the crossbars of it might be possible for him to climb, but wall sloped from the top of the gate to the opening he was going for, and there weren't any handholds secure enough for him to grip if he wanted to go that way.

No. The only way he was going to win this was by jumping.

He glanced at the rancor again. It had stopped its approach now, and was shifting back onto its hindquarters; its front legs acted very much like arms - _disgusting, slimy arms, like the shadows of jagged branches on a stormy night, reaching to rip out your throat-_

The thing roared, and Matthias refused to let himself flinch.

Then it charged.

The first attack came from its leg-like arms; it tried to swat him, with extreme force, with the meaty bulk of one of them. Matthias stumbled back until he hit the wall, something digging into his back, and the tips of claws still raked his legs, sending him toppling to the ground.

He knelt there for half a second, cataloguing injuries - _scraped knees, skinned shins, bruised face_ \- before he registered what, exactly, was digging into his back.

He wasn't used to the darksaber yet, he told himself. Didn't know how to use it to any great extent, hadn't had it on him long enough for it to be second nature to reach for it in times of panic. At least, that was what he told himself as he reached for it now, even though it hadn't cost him a thought earlier when he'd automatically bundled it up and strapped it to the cloth under his back before infiltrating Pekka's palace as a guard.

The black blade seemed to suck all of the already-dim light out of the surroundings; Matthias could still see, but barely.

Barely was enough.

* * *

The mercenary - Inej had decided to stop calling her a bounty hunter when she so clearly wasn't one - remained still as she crawled closer and closer, the ebb and flow of the battle dying down a little as Nina, Jesper and Kaz found fewer and fewer people to blast. And it was that stillness that enabled her to study her in such a scrutinising way, putting every skill of deduction she'd ever learned as a spy to the ultimate test.

The woman was beautiful - human, barely older than Inej, with hard ivory skin and soft amber hair that billowed around her face in gentle waves that Inej caught herself thinking couldn't be practical in combat. Surely they'd just get in the way?

But what the woman wore was what interested her. High quality leather gear, padded enough as to almost be armoured, with a belt at her waist, full of small pockets to keep things in. Things of a similar size to the information chip Inej currently had. . .

A hand grasped her wrist and the other grasped her throat as the mercenary's eyes flew open, irises as gold as her hair. She sat up fluidly, dragging Inej's neck with her, and curled her face into a sneer.

But Inej still had one hand free. She punched that face.

The woman was clearly a good fighter - there was a way she moved that spoke of years of training - but she'd been disoriented by the blast: she glared at Inej, but only vaguely, like her eyesight wasn't good enough to see exactly who or where she was; her movements were weak and sloppy; her hands didn't grip as tightly as the muscles lining them suggested they could. A glance at her angry red palms was all the answer Inej needed as to why: the woman had thrown up her hands to prevent her face from being scorched off by the explosion, and now her eyesight was temporarily disabled and her hands were in agony.

Nevertheless, she put up a hell of a fight. Inej reached for the blaster she'd nicked from the pirate, but the woman reached out a hand and summoned it to her own - _Force user_ , Inej confirmed grimly, like the yellow eyes hadn't been confirmation enough - before firing at her.

But her eyesight and aim were still off, so Inej dodged to the left, the right, then ducked, before kicking high - it was difficult in this blasted bikini, but she made do - and sending the blaster flying. She made to tackle the woman, but she turned her body last minute and Inej had to pull back suddenly; unbalanced, the mercenary took to chance to punch her side, her chest, before she caught both her arms and they were pushing each other, pushing-

"I know who you are," the mercenary whispered, a ragged glee in her voice. "You're the Wraith."

Inej just pushed harder. She shoved her knee upwards, but the woman deflected that strike and they were back to shoving again. They were almost identical in strength.

"You're the Wraith," the woman continued, "and your skill relies on your appearance being kept a secret save for a vague description and a face familiar only to people on a sorry backwater planet like this."

Inej tried to punch her in the jaw - that might get her to stop talking - but she ducked and instead jabbed Inej in the diaphragm. Winded, she fell back for a second.

"Did you notice the holocams in here, Wraith?" The woman's voice was a whisper.

Inej had. She'd seen them when she was first brought in, had worried about them, but ultimately they hadn't been her biggest worry at the time.

There were three: one directly above the rancor pit, one meant to show off Pekka and his throne in all his (now dead) bulbous glory, and one that swivelled its lens to study everyone in the room.

"I've hacked them," the mercenary continued, and then Inej moved.

It was more instinct than thought, and then she was dragging the woman round and throwing her into the wall. Where this extra strength had come from, she didn't know. Loyalty?

Loyalty, she decided, and a commitment to her cause, and also a healthy sense of self-preservation. She didn't want bounty hunters to know what she looked like.

So she sent the mercenary thumping against the wall, pressed her arm against her throat, their faces inches apart. The woman was still smiling.

"I barely even have to think," she rasped out through the little space Inej gave her to breathe, "and I can broadcast your identity for the world to see. I may have failed in my mission to maintain an alliance with Pekka the Hutt on my master's behalf, but I can give him this. He will forgive me."

"You can't do any of that if you're dead," Inej muttered, half to herself, pressing harder. Choking this woman to death would likely haunt her later - it was a more. . . hands on. . . approach than she was used to - but she would do it, if it came down to it.

The mercenary laughed. "Do you know the secret to fighting the acklay, Wraith?"

Inej only pressed harder. She'd let this woman talk for long enough.

But something was wrong. She was pushing back now, the pressure easing up on her throat, and Inej was faced with the unfortunate reality that whatever effect had left the woman in a daze earlier was now wearing off.

"The trick," she continued, voice no longer a wheeze, "is to pay attention to all of its legs."

Then something hot tore through Inej's side.

There was a blast too, but that was irrelevant right now: the blaster bolt had only skimmed the outside of her skin - the mercenary's aim must still be off - but it _hurt_ and it was in that moment of distraction that the woman broke free and drove her fist into the wound.

Inej screamed.

She fell to her knees. "Who _are_ you?" She was still trembling from the pain and the exertion - she'd had worse, but it _hurt_ \- and she was stalling for any time she had.

Luckily, the woman was as arrogant as she was skilled. "I am Dunyasha Lazareva, the Emperor's Hand," she declared, before her face twisted itself into a sneer. "And I could never be beaten by the likes of _you_."

It was a short monologue, but it was long enough. Long enough for Inej to take several deep breaths, reorient herself on her feet, then lunge.

The injury affected her speed, and Dunyasha's skill meant she avoided being tackled to the floor, but Inej had planned for that. She didn't want to tackle her.

She wanted the small blaster Dunyasha had somehow had on her this whole time - the one she'd not noticed before, the one she'd not been able to use before.

And she got it. Its hilt was solidly in her hand even as Dunyasha fled, with a final, solid kick to Inej's side to force her down on one knee again, gritting her teeth in pain. She was gone in an instant, and Inej readjusted her priorities; no doubt she'd already triggered the feed from the holocams to transmit directly to Coruscant - to the _galaxy -_ and the wanted lists.

The moving holocam - the only one with a hope of videoing her - was repeating its rounds again. Getting closer, and closer, and-

_Thunk._ It was knocked clean off, fried and frazzled, by Inej's shot.

She took a deep breath in relief. Then another one. Then another one.

_Force_ , her side hurt.

Someone was next to her. Kaz, she recognised almost immediately, because she knew him like she knew herself; Kaz was next to her, and had a hand resting on her arm, another one ready to catch her if she collapsed, though she noted that his hand was nowhere near her blaster wound.

"Inej?" His voice seemed very far away. She raised her eyes - they felt very heavy, all of a sudden - to meet his. "I heard you scream. Are you-"

Her head shot forward and she kissed him.

She pulled back almost immediately, and almost didn't notice the floundering expression, the sheer _shock_ on his face. "Yeah," she said breathlessly, pain, worry, _relief_ crashing down on her. She was dizzy with it all.

Kaz was here. They'd got him out.

"I'm fine."

There was a swathe of black in the corner of her vision, a humming sound that sounded a lot like a lightsaber. Had Matthias activated the darksaber? She frowned, turned to look - then all was darkness.

It was a good thing Kaz had been prepared to catch her, she mused as she went out, since if she'd hit the floor like this, it would've _really_ hurt.


	29. Episode XXIX

The music box felt delicate and unreal under her gloved hands as Koroleva turned it over and over. The metal surfaces were scratched and dull with age, and really there was no way it was the same one; as familiar as they looked, the sheer _odds_ of that were-

She opened the lid, and the breath caught in her throat at the sight of the familiar scavenger figurine there.

Jedi weren't supposed to have possessions, but there was no doubt this had been hers.

She took off her helmet; she wanted to see this through her own eyes.

The paint on the figurine was as chapped and faded as ever, but the colour was as she remembered it. She ran her fingers along the edges, felt the ridges and marks there that Mal had inscribed. As Tatooine had its japor snippets, so Jakku had its music boxes, and the symbols traditionally carved on both of them were sacred, loved. Secrets to all but the givers and the receivers. Mal's message to her was told in the familiar lines of a language she hadn't spoken in so long, Mal's familiar handwriting causing her throat to dry up.

Mal, whom she had failed.

Mal, who was dead.

Mal, Mal, _Mal_ -

This was impossible.

It was impossible that she should rediscover her old music box almost the items salvaged from the base at Hoth, left to lie in the snow of the hangar like someone had thrown it aside in a fit of rage.

And they had, she realised, wrapping her right hand around it. Psychometry had never been her strong suit, but she could sense Zenik's presence on this, and before that, _stronger_ than that, if only by a greater length of ownership-

_Genya._

Genya, whom she'd known was alive. Genya, whom she'd chosen not to look for anyway. Her friend deserved her peaceful life.

Alina huffed. Of course Genya had kept her music box for her.

But _she_ couldn't keep it, Koroleva was beginning to understand. The Emperor was already suspicious enough of her as it was; keeping memorabilia from her life as a scavenger and a Jedi would only exacerbate that. She would have to destroy it. She _would_ destroy it.

She reached out and snapped the figurine off its pedestal. The rest of the music box, rusted and scrappy as it was, was crushed by the fall of her fist.

But even as it fell, she tucked the figurine away into her pocket. She wasn't ready to part with it quite yet.

* * *

They made it back to the homestead in more or less one piece each - Nina didn't want to admit to being surprised, but she was.

That had been terrifying.

Now, though, they'd taken the rest of the day in the homestead to just relax. Inej's strangulation of Pekka would no doubt leave a power vacuum for other ambitious lowlifes to fill, but they weren't going to worry about that right now. Besides, that would only lead to chaos - and in a war like this, where order was the Empire's weapon, chaos was exactly what the Alliance needed.

That didn't mean Nina's eyes weren't glued to the holos, though. And, oddly enough, it wasn't news of Pekka's death that had everyone up in arms.

Instead, it was footage from inside the throne room - footage that had only been broadcast at the end, Inej had briefly explained before rushing off to get some much needed medical treatment for her wound.

The footage from all three cameras had been sent straight to the holonet. The mercenary hadn't achieved her aim - Inej wasn't in any of the footage, as far as Nina could see - but the fight in which Nina, Jesper and Kaz took on half of Pekka's entourage and lived had become famous. The Empire had plastered their faces all over wanted posters (Nina knew she should be worried about that, but she couldn't help but be smugly pleased) and the images of Pekka's corpse sparked a lot of controversy. It was evident that he'd been strangled by a slave girl's chain, but who that slave girl was, and whether or not she'd been involved in the attack remained unclear.

At least, it _had_ been unclear. Wylan Van Eck, the orchestrator of such an awful, amazing plan, had already let it slip that it was the Wraith who'd strangled him, and the Wraith who'd stayed behind to personally free every one of Pekka's slaves in the palace ( _while she was bleeding out, barely conscious_ , Wylan hadn't said but Kaz and Nina certainly had at the time). In the brief (but scary) conversation Nina had had with Tamar over the comms, the general had admitted it was a good publicity stunt for the Rebellion - then promptly returned to berating them for it.

But that wasn't the part of the chaos that held Nina's attention. It was the footage from the rancor pit that did that.

The footage of Matthias with the darksaber.

Inej and Matthias's publicity stunt had been a long time in the making - no, ever since Hoth, which felt like eons ago, rather than a few weeks - and its early stages hadn't achieved much. At least, not compared to this.

Because the rumours of a blond Mandalorian fighting for the Rebellion - _with the darksaber_ \- had been just that: rumours.

Actual live footage of said Mandalorian defeating a live rancor in battle?

That was a little more concrete.

"Oh, would you stop playing that," Matthias grumbled as she started it again, his ears turning pink. She ignored him. From watching the way he fought, despite his (fairly obvious) inexperience with fighting with a lightsaber, she could certainly see why Mandalorians were famed as warriors. He moved with a grace that should've looked unnatural on such a large man, but instead only looked unnatural because of the gracelessness of the creature he was fighting. The fight barely lasted two minutes, the darksaber slicing through the rancor's armoured skin like butter, and the beast falling quickly.

Nina almost felt sorry for it.

Nevertheless, she glanced up at Matthias with a grin playing around the corners of her mouth. "You're famous now."

"Be quiet."

"Or what?" She wiggled her fingers at me. "You'll bust out your extreme lightsaber skills on me?"

Matthias scowled. "Shut up. It's not like anyone's taught me how to use it." A pause. "Could- could you, maybe-"

She sighed. "Why does _everyone_ want me to teach them?"

"Because you're the only one who knows what they're doing, Nina," Inej said, coming out of the refresher of the homestead, Kaz in tow. She looked a lot more at home in her usual Rebel fatigues than she had in that stupid metal bikini, even with the heavy bandage wrapped around her torso making her look bulkier than she was. Her hair had been done differently as well: instead of being in its simple, pragmatic plait down her back, she'd braided it in a ball at the nape of her neck, in a style similar to the one Nina had seen the Princess of Alderaan - she forgot her name - wear when serving in the Senate that one time.

"So. . ." Matthias drew the word out. "Will you?"

Nina turned her attention back to him. "Of course I will," she said, almost scornfully. He looked far too happy at the prospect, so she added quickly, "Force knows you need it." She raised her voice. "And Jesper may need a role model in how _not_ to lose a weapon!"

Jesper, from the other side of the room, glanced up sheepishly. "I didn't mean to!"

"I know you didn't." Strangely enough, Nina wasn't that he'd lost Zoya's lightsaber amongst the melee. It wasn't like it was her master's sole legacy - Zoya's ghost turned up too often for that - and Kuwei had never used it enough to truly make it his own. It was a Jedi's weapon.

Nina was not a Jedi.

Nor was Jesper.

"But I got the lecture about constantly losing or damaging my lightsaber enough when I was younger," she said. "There's no way I'm sparing you it now. _And_ now you'll have to build your own," she added, "and you'll need a kyber crystal for that."

And Nina didn't miss the slight glance Jesper sent Wylan before he reached under his shirt and pulled out the necklace he wore. His mother's kyber crystal glinted in the violet light filtering in from the twin suns setting outside.

It was with a wry twist to his mouth that Jesper said, "I already have one."

* * *

"Ow," Inej said. "Be careful with that."

Kaz snorted, but she did notice the way his hands stilled, his motions more gentle as he wrapped the bandage round her torso again. She'd felt much better once she'd changed out of that metal bikini into her usual fatigues, the information chip safely in her pocket, but the wound remained painful. "You're the one who went and got yourself shot."

"Saving you!"

"After I explicitly told you not to," he chided, but there was no heat in it. None of the venom that made Kaz so cruel. "I work alone."

"Not anymore. You haven't worked alone since I worked with you." His hands stilled briefly, before continuing their motions. "And I guess I don't work alone anymore either." She didn't know when she'd become so used to working solo that being in a group like this still struck her as odd.

But she'd never worked alone either, had she? The last time she was alone was in Pekka's palace, before she'd met Kaz, ripped away from her parents. Since then, she'd had Kaz, then Nina, and now all of them.

Perhaps that was what terrified her so much about the memory of the experience: the hopelessness of knowing no one who heard her scream cared, and no one was coming to save her.

Until Kaz, in a gesture that was the polar opposite of the veneer he showed the rest of the world, had.

Her mouth twisted to the side in a half-smile. "I guess that's another one you owe me."

"Why don't we just stop keeping count?" Kaz proposed as he tied the bandage and snipped off the ends.

"Agreed." Inej twisted round on the counter so she could look him in the eye. "So long as we keep freely giving favours."

Kaz scoffed. "Sounds out of character for me."

Inej snorted. "People change."

"You know, you _were_ in the footage transmitted from that holocam," Kaz said. "Briefly, and it's from during the fight, so you can't really get a clear picture of you, but your blaster shot didn't manage to fry the cam's memory. Even now, there are Imperials combing through the data that made its way to the holonet, trying to find the identity of the Wraith."

She just shrugged, feeling the fluid motion flow through her shoulders. "Let them comb through it. They'll never be certain, and as long as they're unsure I'll be in no more danger than I am already." She glanced in the mirror and reached up to undo her plait, folds of dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. They spent so much time tied up that she rarely got a good look at them; she studied them now, her head cocked to the side. Her hair seemed to be permanently wavy, from he constant pressure of being in the plait, even though she knew it was actually abnormally straight.

The feeling of warm, heavy hair on her back was unusual and intimate, but as much as Inej enjoyed the novelty of it, the impracticality of walking around with hair as long as hers demanded she tie it up, especially on Tatooine, _especially_ when part of the Rebellion - she just never knew when she'd have to fight next. So she gathered in all in one hand, methodically divided it into sections, and started to braid it again.

She could feel Kaz's eyes on her, but it was a good few moments before he asked, "That's an Alderaanian hairstyle, isn't it?"

"Most braids are," she said with a small smile, "the planet was kind of famous for it. And I need to change my hairstyle - those holocams may not have ever caught a picture of me, but enough people survived who _saw_ me, and now it's out that the slave girl who killed Pekka was the Wraith, the description of a dark-skinned young woman with her hair in a single plait will be circling everywhere. Changing hairstyles can stall recognition for just long enough that I can get away, if I ever get spotted again off my description alone."

"That's. . . logical." A tense moment passed, then Kaz said, as she swept another lock of hair round, "You're very good at this."

She met his eyes in the mirror briefly. "My mother was Alderaanian. _I'm_ Alderaanian. Of course I know how to do Alderaanian braids."

"So that was why you were upset when Alderaan was destroyed."

"Anyone with a heart was upset when Alderaan was destroyed. But. . . That did have something to do with my breakdown."

Kaz was silent for a few moments again, and Inej had the peculiar idea that he was still being careful. Cautious. Treading lightly.

Being mindful of other people's feelings? Didn't sound like Kaz Brekker at all.

"What was Alderaan like?" he asked. "What was your Alderaanian family like?"

Her fingers faltered at that, and she actually twisted around to lock gazes with him. His face was as impassive as ever.

Eyes narrowed, wondering what his intentions were, she said, "Alderaan was beautiful. The only cities were built up in the mountains, where no plants would grow, so they didn't destroy any wildlife. The atmosphere was warmer than space, but still cool, and their summer storms were without a doubt something to behold. I saw one once when I was visiting my cousins - all were under the age of ten, and little menaces, each and every one of them - and it just took my breath away."

"Anything like sandstorms?"

It was Inej's turn to scoff this time, the scorn in her voice tangible. "No. Storms on Alderaan were pretty: the most that would happen to you is you'd get a little bit wet. Sandstorms on Tatooine could suffocate you, get you lost, dry up all your water. They're menaces."

"You hate Tatooine."

It was an observation, not a challenge, but Inej's lips curled into a bitter smile anyway. "With every fibre of my being."

Kaz was silent after that.

It was Inej who broke said silence. "What is this place, Kaz?" She swept her hand around the refresher, the homestead. "Why make this an informal base of operations?"

There was a moment's hesitation. Kaz didn't look at her as he said in a hard voice, "I was a moisture farmer. This was my moisture farm. Or," he added bitterly, the edge coming back into his voice and making him sound like Kaz again, "rather, my father's. Until, that is, Pekka's goons started extracting 'water taxes' from us until we didn't have enough water for ourselves, let alone to sell."

Inej opened her mouth, but no words came to mind. It didn't matter: Kaz continued anyway, with his blunt, harsh language and blunt, harsh retelling. "My father gave most of the water to me and my brother. He died first, and when it was just Jordie and me. . . he soon went as well." He looked up, his face purposefully unaffected. _I'm fine_ , said the sour twist to his mouth. _It's all in the past now, isn't it?_ "I ran away, became a smuggler, got so in debt I was forced to work for the person who killed my family. The end."

There was nothing to say to that. Nothing to say except: "I should've let you kill him."

Kaz actually laughed at that. "No, I'm glad you're the one who killed him. It's ironic, really. He was killed by the chains he put other people in."

Inej nodded, slowly at first, then more quickly. Then, softly, "What happened to your mother?"

He looked away. "Speeder crash. I was eleven, and allowed to fly it for the first time. I crashed it. She died." There was a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Since then, I can't fly a ship, without feeling like- like I'm going to. . ."

"I know."

He looked back at her, and pressed his lips together. There was nothing left to say.

She kept tying her hair. It was a while before she found there was one complicated loop she simply couldn't do one herself, with or without the mirror.

"Can you help me with this?"

Kaz froze at the suggestion, but obliged, and moved forward to take the lock of hair and tuck it into place. He didn't stop there, though, and she didn't ask him to. Instead, he copied the motions he'd already seen her do, continuing the braid for her.

Inej found that there was a tension in her shoulders and let herself relax. There were a lot of Alderaanian traditions surrounding braids and they - _had_ \- varied from continent to continent. But one remained constant: it was an immensely intimate act to allow someone outside of your immediate family to braid your hair. It implied they _were_ family - and indeed, Nina, whom she considered a sister of sorts, had helped her with them on occasion - or soon would be.

Kaz no doubt knew of the tradition, but he didn't comment as he finished off the last loop, even if his hands did tremble. They still hadn't spoken about the fact that, delirious and dizzy, she'd kissed him.

She couldn't bring herself to regret it.

Finally, Kaz's hands dropped from her hair and he took a step back. She shook her head a little, testing their durability, and when they didn't so much as shift, she jumped up from her cross-legged position on the counter and scooted round to flash a smile at him. He didn't smile back.

Her smile dropped. Not that there was much to smile about to begin with, the information she'd found on the chip still lurking in the back of her mind, making her heart constrict whenever she thought of it. . .

"Let's go greet the others," she said.


	30. Episode XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I did not drop several references to Solo into this chapter. I don't know what you're talking about.

Jesper had never been so glad to leave a planet behind. Tatooine was a yellow-orange curve in the viewport as he lifted off, and he took a moment to watch Inej's shuttle jump to hyperspace before following, despite the fact that they were no doubt bound for different destinations.

"Where _is_ Inej going?" he wondered aloud, more as a thought than a question, but Nina, sitting behind him in the cockpit, answered anyway.

"She found a lead on some special project the Empire's building," she said. "She's gone off to talk to members of her network to find out more information on it."

"Network?"

"She _does_ work in intelligence." Nina's gaze seemed fixed on the point in realspace where her friend had been not moments before. "She has a network of spies and informants who feed information to her; she doesn't just get her own information by sneaking around and investigating things herself. That wouldn't be nearly as efficient."

"I suppose," Jesper conceded, then starting plotting their own hyperspace jump. The nebula around Starkiller Base did a good job of keeping it hidden, but it also introduced major obstacles which the ship had to manoeuvre around, such as newly forming stars and gravity wells. It wasn't quite as dangerous as the Kessel Run - it didn't have anything like the Maw, or massive creatures with tentacles that lived among the nebulae (at least, as far as Jesper knew) - but it was dangerous nonetheless.

So it was a while before Jesper had finished plotting a safe course through it, and seen them safely into hyperspace. Long enough that although Nina hadn't left the cockpit, the unusual silence she kept made it feel like she had. Long enough that he was startled when she actually spoke.

"Are you really planning on using your crystal to build a new lightsaber?"

He glanced up at that. "Of course. I can't exactly train without one, can I?" A thought struck him, so he inquired, "Unless there are other places you can get kyber crystals?"

Nina thought about it for a moment, and he felt his heart lift up. But then she shook her head. "No. I mean, there were. Like the planet Ilum. I lost my lightsabers a lot when I was younger, so I had to visit regularly. But I did some research on Kuwei's behalf during the weeks after Yavin, and Ilum's been taken over by the Empire. It was stripped of its crystals to fuel the battle station, and now there's nothing left. The surface was stripped away, and you can see the magma bubbling even from orbit." Her eyes were wide; she stared at nothing. "It was awful. The crystals are semi-sentient, and I could feel their agony through the Force."

Jesper swallowed. "Are there other places?"

"Yes," Nina admitted, "but Ilum was always the go-to place for the Jedi. In other places they're sparser, more spread out. But if there's a crystal out there for you, then it's already chosen you, as mine chose me, and Zoya's chose her, and even Alina Starkiller's two crystals chose her. If you close your eyes, meditate deep enough, you can hear its song."

" _Song_?" Jesper wasn't sure whether to laugh or scoff. Kaz would definitely chose the latter.

This Jedi stuff seemed very. . . nonsensical.

Nina scowled. "Any trained Force wielder would have your head for that. _Yes_ , song. The song of life. When you feel people around you, don't they all feel a little different to each other? Sing slightly different songs?"

Jesper wanted to deny it, but. . . "Yes."

"Crystals are the same way." She drew her lightsaber, but didn't ignite it. Instead, she held it up to the light. "You're probably so used to your crystal's song that it's background noise by now, but listen to mine. It hums a specific tune. Can you feel it?"

He could. It was like white noise, buzzing at the edge of his senses, except more. . . ethereal. Powerful. _Real_. "Yes."

Nina clipped the saber to her belt again. "Then you know what you're looking for. When you meditate over the next few years, look for them. Try to find them."

He bit his tongue, then said, "I will," softly. But- "That could take years. Finding them, that is."

She tilted her head in thought, then nodded. "You're right. If you build a lightsaber out of your crystal now - I think we may have enough spare parts on board - we can focus on winning the war first, then focus on finding crystals that are right for you. I think I have a few manuals on lightsaber construction on my datapad - I'll go see what pieces I can find, then bring them back here."

She stood up. there was something sad in her eyes, and Jesper felt automatically that she was thinking about Kuwei.

He nodded, before turning back to the view of hyperspace beyond the viewports. The stars, elongated into streaks, were almost the same colour as his old lightsaber.

* * *

Of all the places she had informants planted, the Ring of Kafrene had to be the place Inej felt like she most fitted in. It was a dusty old waystation build into an asteroid that barely had an atmosphere, and the only people there were smugglers, lowlifes, people who would be anywhere else, in any other life, if they could be.

It was the place she was most likely to run into her parents.

So it was easy for her to act like she belonged, pace slow and eyes downcast, yet still reach the rendezvous point as fast as possible in plenty of time to meet her informant.

They stood in the shadow of some twisted metal structure; all Inej could make out was a humanoid figure with a cowl hiding the shape of their head.

That was fair. It wasn't like her face wasn't swathed in wrappings as well to keep from being recognised.

So she glanced from left to right without moving her head - with her face covered, the stormtroopers milling about could barely tell she'd looked anywhere but straight ahead at all - then ducked into a back alley after the figure.

"It's a long way to Alderaan," they said to her without turning around. The prearranged code phrase.

"Especially since the Disaster," she finished, the words dry in her throat, stomach roiling.

The agent nodded once, then turned to face her. "Sankta Marya," he said. It was the code name she used when dealing with him and a few others spies - all of whom were named after members of Alderaanian royalty which had been granted sainthood on the planet after their deaths.

The idea had been Tamar's actually: apparently in the days and weeks after Alderaan's destruction, its Princess had gone gallivanting on a mission across the galaxy to gather up survivors with Alderaanian ancestry, since the Empire had suddenly been targeting them for fear that they would join the Rebellion. Lizabeta - the only surviving member of the Royal Family, and well on her way to earning the title of _Sankta_ for herself - had instead offered them a new home, which many took. The rest did exactly what the Empire had feared they would do: become Rebels.

And quite of a few of those had gone into Rebel intelligence.

"Sankt Petyr," she replied. "What information have you got that you couldn't transmit over the channels?"

He wasted no time in pulling out an information chip slightly larger than the one Inej had pilfered from Dunyasha. "Here," he said. "It's all on there - everything that I and the other Bothan spies could find about the _project_ you inquired about."

"So it was real," she heard herself say. She knew it was unprofessional, but she was too focused to clutching the datachip tightly in her hand and trying not to hyperventilate to properly police her words right now. "They're going to do it again."

For a survivor of the Disaster, as the planet's destruction had been dubbed, Petyr seemed. . . confident. Unworried.

"Everything is on that disc," he assured her. " _Everything._ The only reason it succeeded before was because we didn't know what we were up against. Now we know all there is to know."

Inej fervently wished she could believe him.

And she wished it even more fervently when she was flying out of the system and jumped to hyperspace, before immediately inserting the chip into her ship's computer and browsing the information it contained. She wished it even as she stared at diagram of another (albeit half-finished) Death Star, and felt like her stomach had been left behind on Kafrene.

* * *

Matthias watched the reel of him taking down the rancor for perhaps the fifth time that hour.

He didn't know if the Rebellion had somehow. . . sliced the footage or something, because there was no way this was real. There was no way he'd actually looked that powerful when fighting the rancor - he'd been terrified and sweaty and resolute and his strikes had _not_ been this graceful, this. . . _impressive._ There was no way this was real.

He said it aloud into the silence of the _Barrel_ 's main seating area, the dejarik table dark under his hand. "This can't be real."

"It's not."

Matthias started at the sound: he'd thought that everyone was either in the cockpit or their individual bunk rooms. But no. Kaz had just strolled in and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as arrogant and put together as ever despite whatever ordeal he'd experienced at Pekka's hands.

"It's not?"

"No." Kaz uncrossed his arms and wandered closer as the footage automatically started again. His eyes tracked the swing of the darksaber - with the grainy quality of the holo, its blade was a streak of darkness with every slash. "Inej asked me to slice the footage and edit it to make it more effective as propaganda the moment we got back to the homestead. I don't think she intended me to do it so immediately - she was fussing about injuries and such - but the more people see the unaltered version, the less credible the sliced version becomes." He shrugged. "So I did it immediately.

"Chances are," he added, "that since only Imperial officials were watching - hoping to get a clear holo of the Wraith's face - none of the actual public saw it before then." He stood up to his full height again; sitting down, Matthias had to tilt his head back to meet his eye. "And the actual public is who propaganda's targeted at, anyway."

A moment passed, then he added, "It's working, too. I heard there was an uprising on Mandalore a few days after it was leaked. The Imperials crushed it, but. . . There's a rebellion there, waiting to step up and be killed with the rest of you fools."

_Like Inej?_ Matthias almost wanted to say, but he didn't, if only because somehow he knew that Kaz didn't truly mean it - not anymore.

He didn't understand Kaz Brekker. Nor did he understand the fact that:

" _You_ did this?" He waved his hand at the image, where his face had been tidied up to look more heroic, his actions had been edited to look smoother and more purposeful, the damage done to the rancor had been emphasised - not that much work was needed on the last part. The darksaber was a _debilitating_ weapon.

Kaz didn't bother nodding - just raised his eyebrows. "Yeah." At Matthias's shock (and scepticism) he scoffed. "I'm the most infamous smuggler in the Outer Rim but I can't fly my own ship. Sometimes I'm with partners like Inej and Jesper to get through those blockades, but often I have droids flying it, and if you think droids would last five minutes as pilots against a horde of TIEs, think again. I'm as infamous as I am because of my slicing skills."

"And what does _slicing_ entail?" Kaz had a way of making everyone who spoke to him feel stupid; Matthias was no exception.

"Changing the ship's transponder so it's not flagged as illegal, cloaking the movements of ships, hacking Imperial communications channels to find the gaps in their blockades," Kaz checked them off on his fingers, then looked up at Matthias. "Why do you think Inej asked me on this mission in the first place? You think you'd have reached anywhere _close_ to the Eadu and Jedha systems without me?"

"Perhaps not," Matthias admitted, then fixed Kaz with a sharp look. "But that was hardly _this_ mission. It's over and done with. The Death Star's gone. We're moving on to other things, now."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Wylan said.

Startled, Matthias glanced up to see the boy - he knew he was over eighteen standard years, but he could never make himself think of him as older than _boy_ \- standing silhouetted in the doorway, the shadows resting on his slim shoulders like some sort of cape. His expression was serious, his chin held high. He looked older, Matthias noted with some sadness. Older, and infinitely more responsible, now that he'd risen in the Rebellion's ranks so quickly.

And apparently he'd risen high enough as the communications and inventory officer in Inej's team to be privy to the secret data that she transmitted, because he pursed his lips, and said, "We've got a loose end to tie up."

* * *

Jesper was Corellian; he'd been brought up in the ship-building yards trying to keep out of the grasp of Lady Proxima and her foul criminal underworld, before he'd stolen a ship one day after his dad died to try and get out of that cesspit. He'd succeeded, and now. . .

Now he was here.

Now he was free.

He wouldn't go back for the galaxy, but he was glad that living among the ship yards had taught him a thing or two about blueprints and their subsequent mechanics - even if on Corellia he'd worked with actual paper prints, not holos in which the diagrams were literally blue.

So he knew exactly what the manual on lightsaber construction was telling him - even had some personal criticisms for it. Surely having the energy gate turned that way limited the amount of energy produced?

"It's supposed to," Nina had explained when he brought it up (having noticed the problem after fifteen seconds of studying it). "It's why you get a lightsaber and not a-" She'd cut herself off before she finished, going peculiarly pale.

He knew what she'd been about to say - _a Death Star_ \- but didn't quite see why she was being so sensitive about it. Was there something going on that he, as a smuggler, wasn't qualified to know?

Probably.

Anyway, it didn't matter. Because he was busy with this, studying the schematics projected in front of him, fitting together the pieces that either he or Nina had scrounged up from miscellaneous devices around the ship.

_So, the blade emitter goes here, and the emitter matrix goes there. That can't be right._ He frowned at the diagram. _Surely that would make the saber explode? Maybe it's meant to be the other way round. . ._

He experimented with it and, he didn't know, it just felt _right_. Like this was the way his lightsaber was supposed to be put together. The crystal hummed under his touch as he tried to insert it into the centre, and for one, delusional moment, he imagined it was humming in support.

Then he shook it off. Semi-sentient crystals or not, that couldn't be right.

_Especially_ since said crystal was adamantly _refusing to fit into the right spot._

He grunted aloud in frustrated and leaned back, suddenly aware of his surroundings. His half-complete lightsaber rolled out of his lap and joined the rest of the junk spilled across the floor of the bunkroom he shared with Kaz while the others were on board. He uncrossed his legs, back stiff from meditation, and the crystal rolled away as well, winking in the dim light. He scowled after it.

Then he stretched his back, craned his neck - even more than he already had; _Force_ , it ached - and flicked back through the pages of schematics in the holomanual. Everything back the way he'd read was full of the same diagrams he was sick to death of, each part labelled with unnecessarily complex explanations for what they did. Jesper snorted at some of the more obvious explanations. Apparently, not all Jedi were exactly great mechanics.

He shook his head roughly: he could hear the clash of saber on saber from a few doors down, no doubt Nina following up on her promise to train Matthias how to use the darksaber. He sort of pitied the man - Nina could be a harsh tutor, as he'd already found out. . .

Bored, he flipped forward in the manual. He'd reviewed all of this a thousand times-

Wait.

He turned back a page. There, instead of a diagram - thank the _Force_ , no diagrams on this page - there was an illustration, or an artist's interpretation of a Jedi padawan building their lightsaber. The padawan was a human female, with pale hair cut close to her head except for a long thin braid that snaked over her right shoulder. Her painted expression was focused, lips and brow pinched in concentration as she sat cross-legged, palms upturned upon her knees, eyes closed.

Her lightsaber hovered in front of her, fitting the pieces together not by physical touch, but by using the Force.

Jesper frowned as he considered the drawing, then studied the basic framework he'd set up for his own.

He re-crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and sank into the Force. It felt the same as it always did, the warm folds welcoming him in, giving him the natural-yet-unnatural confidence - no, _surety_ \- he always had when he was flying.

He reached out eagerly.

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes, eyed the parts still lying stationary on the floor, and scoffed at himself. "Come on, Jesper, Nina taught you this. You can do it."

He closed his eyes again, threw his mind back. Remembered how it had felt to summon Kuwei's lightsaber to hand on Hoth, remembered the feeling of kyber crystals' humming, remembered Nina's voice, quiet in reverence, talking him through how to harness his power on the journey to Tatooine. _Feel the Force flowing through you. . ._

He reached out, in part with his hand, but that was more as a guide for his mind as he found the spirit of his mother's crystal where it was resting on the floor and summoned it to hover a few centimetres above the skin of his palm. He could feel its warmth even without the physical contact - see the faintly lilac light it emitted through his eyelids.

Then he reached out with his other hand and felt the scraps of metal components around him, sifting through them, finding the ones he needed. He couldn't say he'd know for sure which ones those were, if he opened his eyes, but he trusted the Force to know. Trusted _himself_ to just _know_.

One, two, three, four, components floated into the air, the disturbed and displaced dust swirling around them - one for each digit as he curled his fingers inwards and the components hovered in a horizontal line before him, the crystal sliding into place between them.

Then his thumb: it arched across his left palm and the basic framework he'd constructed floated into the line, the final piece in a thousand-year-old puzzle. He spread both his hands wide, then contracted them. Eyes still closed, he didn't see the pieces falling into place within the framework, but he sensed it anyway - with his ears, at the satisfying _click_ they made; with his touch, by the heavy cylinder that fell into his lap; by the Force, when his metaphysical grip suddenly clutched nothing but air.

He opened his eyes.

The blue light of the holomanual illuminated the scuffs on the curved metal surface, casting the other half into shadow. The same stark contrast was applied to the pommel and hilt, with the ridges that Nina had recommended he put there for grip - apparently his style of combat was too. . . _flamboyant_. . . to assume that he wouldn't need a little help keeping hold of his saber. He lifted it in his hand, surprised by how heavy it was after he'd lifted it with the Force with little to no effort, even if there was no real weight difference between this saber and Kuwei's. He hit the activation button.

The blade was the perfect shade of purple: no more red than it was blue, nor blue than it was red. Instead, it was directly in between.


	31. Episode XXXI

When they reached Starkiller Base and had transmitted their clearance codes, not only had Inej beat them there - they'd had to take a few detours to find certain parts for Jesper's lightsaber - but she was also there to greet them at the landing pad, along with General Kir-Bataar.

The General didn't beat about the bush. "Zenik, Van Eck, Helvar, you're required in the briefing room," she said, face pinched and drawn. She turned her gaze to Jesper and Kaz, lingering by the _Barrel_. "You two are welcome to come as well, but bear in mind the information that will be discussed is of a highly sensitive nature and if we have any doubts about your commitment to keeping it secret," _commitment to the cause_ , Nina knew was the real message, "we will take all necessary methods to prevent you from divulging it."

Tamar didn't usually talk around topics so. . . _fancily_ , but that just made it clear how serious the information was - and how serious the threat was in addition to that. And Nina had a funny feeling she knew what, exactly, this "highly sensitive" information might be.

She looked at Inej, trying to confirm what she thought she knew, but her friend wouldn't meet her gaze.

Nor would she meet her gaze throughout the whole of the briefing - not that Nina was trying to make her. After the first few minutes or so, she'd been transfixed by the diagrams shown.

"Recent information has brought attention to a deal that was being struck between the late Pekka the Hutt and the Emperor, which involved selling resources to aid in the construction of the Empire's new project," Inej said loudly. Her voice was raised slightly in order to reach right the way to the back of the room; it wasn't that large a briefing room, but the moment a diagram of a half-finished Death Star had been projected into the air mutterings had run rampant throughout it. Inej, with her diminutive stature and habit of fading into a crowd, stood no chance. _Especially_ since it wasn't just the Starkiller cell present: the room was so crowded Nina thought there must be at least three cells here, considering Generals Kir-Bataar, Kul-Bataar _and_ Lantsov were all at the front. "The Second Death Star."

The muttering increased. Nina could sense the fear in the room, the same way she could feel the nervous sweat on her own back. They'd been unsettled before, uneasy that they'd had to abandon their bases and fleets to attend this briefing, unnerved by the diagram's similarity to the monstrosity they'd faced, but hearing it outright referred to as the _sequel_ to that monstrosity. . .

Nina pressed her lips together tightly.

"It's been in under construction since - we believe - shortly before the destruction of the last one."

"That's eight months at most," Nina cut in, _forcing_ Inej to look at her. She did - and Nina instantly regretted it. Her friend was wearing a brave face, but Nina knew her better than that: she knew she was thoroughly shaken by this new information.

And, well, that made two of them, but Inej. . . Inej was unshakeable. Seeing her shaken was. . . scary.

No. Terrifying.

Words sticking in her throat, she continued. "The other one only surfaced about twenty years after the Empire; how have they developed a second so quickly?"

Inej's throat bobbed, but she pushed forward: "We can only make assumptions, but our chief one is that the original was plagued by setbacks and unforeseen design flaws before they'd perfected it and deemed it ready to be unleashed. This one - we think - they started building the moment after it reached that point, and since they already had a near-perfect design, save for one particular flaw, it was faster to build."

She paused, then when no one spoke, she kept talking. "Not to mention, it's _not_ finished. That's the important part of our intel: _this battle station is not yet operational._ "

She pointed at the diagram, and a route through the half-built monstrosity's guts was highlighted in red. "Not all of its armour has been built yet - in fact, there's a channel right through the centre of it with direct access to the main reactor, big enough to fly a starfighter through, which hasn't been patched up yet. The battle station relies on a shield to keep it safe until completion, generated from the nearby forest moon of Endor."

She took a deep breath, seemingly invigorated all of a sudden. Nina could see Inej thinking about this, analysing this - gaining hope about their ability to do this.

"And finally," she finished, a faint smile on her face. Looking out at the Rebels assembled, Nina could see the effect that smile had. They were all aching for some positivity, by this point. "The last critical piece of information we have: the Emperor himself is aboard, with intentions of overseeing its construction until the end."

Nina wasn't the only person who gasped out loud at that.

Just in case someone didn't understand the potential ramifications of blowing up the Second Death Star with the Emperor aboard, Inej spelled it out for them. "Koroleva will be accompanying him. By destroying the both of them alongside the station, we can cut off the head of the snake, and plunge the Empire into chaos - chaos in which we can finally overthrow it for good."

_For good_. The words tasted like a promise.

Inej called up a hologram of the moon Endor as well as the Death Star, showing the shield surrounding it. "We've stolen an Imperial shuttle and codes, and a team of perhaps a dozen people will use them to get onto the surface of the moon, where they'll then destroy the shield generator at a specific time. When that time comes to pass, the fleet will drop out of lightspeed and lead the attack, hopefully catching the station by surprise and attacking before they can fight back."

"You won't need the entire Rebel fleet to take on one battle station," someone - a person from Lantsov's cell, Nina dimly recognised - spoke up. "The cruisers won't be able to do anything against it, and we can't attack enemy fighters, not without risking hitting our own."

"You're right. We don't need the cruisers to attack the Death Star." Inej zoomed out on the holo to reveal the curve of the planet Endor as well as the moon - funny they both had the same name, Nina found time to muse - and the cluster of Star Destroyers hiding behind it. "Koroleva's onboard - and she brought her fleet. We need the cruisers to keep _them_ off our backs."

Murmurings again, but quieter. This was starting to make sense. This was starting to sound possible.

Tamar stepped forward to survey the diagram, then the gathered Rebels. "There'll be twelve Pathfinders on the mission - six from General Kul-Bataar's cell, six from ours, including myself." There were cheers as she glanced sideways at Inej, who nodded. _Ours_. Nina wondered when Inej and Tamar had basically began running Starkiller Base to equal extents, but she couldn't deny it wasn't true. Inej had found the place, and since then she'd been just as involved with every person on it as Tamar had. "Plus Van Eck and his weapons of mass destruction." There was a rumble of laughter throughout the room as Wylan turned bright pink: apparently Wylan's job was inventory for bombs, _and_ building them. Having seen his handiwork in the thermal detonator she'd used in Pekka's palace, Nina couldn't deny his skill.

"However, none of you Pathfinders can fly worth a whit," there were more rumbles of laughter, "so we need a command crew. Any volunteers?"

"I'll do it," Nina said immediately. All heads turned towards her, but she paid them no heed - not even Inej. Because suddenly all she could think of was Kuwei's abject hatred of the Death Star, and thinking that with him now dead and gone - _by Koroleva's hand_ \- his family's only legacy was this machine of terror, and how she owed it to him to see it destroyed.

"As will I," said the slightly stilted, too-formal voice of the Mandalorian she'd come to know and love. She looked over to Matthias to see him looking at her. She smiled at him.

Jesper appeared out of the throngs of the crowd to rest his elbow on her shoulder, despite the fact they were the same height. The effect was rather comical: him standing on tiptoes to strain to keep from falling over could never fail to evoke a snort from her. "Where my master goes, I go," he declared. Then he dropped his elbow from her shoulder and nudged her in the ribs with it instead. "Besides, I'm the best pilot we've got. You need me for that shuttle."

_The best pilot we've got._

Nina glanced up at Inej, a question in her eyes.

Inej shook her head with a small smile on her face. "I've volunteered to lead the starfighter assault."

There was a collective cheer throughout the room, and Tamar smiled. After Inej's stunt with Matthias's darksaber and the subsequent propaganda, Nina genuinely couldn't tell whether it was Inej or Tamar who'd first suggested that she fly in the assault, if only to raise the morale of the other pilots; both clearly knew what they were doing when it came to symbols and their effects. _She destroyed the last one, so why not this one?_

Senator Lantsov stepped up then to draw the briefing to a close. "It will take several days to prep the cruisers and fighters for the assault - the preparation starts now. And then we'll send our strike force in, allow them a twenty-four standard hour window in which to destroy the shield generator, before launching the fleet and hope that the shield is down by the time with arrive."

"Hope," Nina said. There was no scepticism in her voice, but no acceptance either.

It was Inej who smiled as she said, "Rebellions are built on hope."

"Then everyone get to your stations," Lantsov said, "and may the Force be with you."

He glanced at Inej. "General Ghafa, may I have a word?"

* * *

Inej was still buzzing - half with excitement, half with apprehension - when she left the small conference between Lantsov, Tolya, Tamar and her, in which they discussed tactics and likely pitfalls of the plan. Pitfalls they hadn't been able to discuss in front of everyone else, or risk morale suffering.

She was buzzing even more when she stepped out to find Nina waiting for her, a grin eating half her face. " _General_ Ghafa?"

Inej didn't look at her friend as she smirked. "I'm leading the assault - a task which captains aren't qualified for in this navy."

"Oh, I know." Nina's eyes crinkled. "I just like the sound of it."

Inej laughed, then sobered up again quickly. It was hard to remain constantly positive nowadays, especially since-

"Nina," she asked, "what do you know about Emperor's Hands?"

Whatever they were, Nina clearly knew of them: her face fell, the corner of her mouth twisting downwards into the ghost of a snarl. She narrowed her eyes at something no one else could see. "Inquisitors, but worse."

"Right." A beat. "What are Inquisitors?"

Nina seemed to come back to herself then; she jerked, startled, then looked at Inej apologetically. "Fallen Jedi," she explained. "After the Purges, most of the surviving Jedi were hunted down and killed - at least, the experienced ones like Baghra and Zoya were. But others. . . The weaker, less centred ones were instead captured and taken in.

"They were tortured," Nina sucked in a gasp, "and reconditioned to use their anger, their fear, their hate - the Dark Side. Zoya's friend," her throat stuck, "Sergei, was one of them."

"I think Tamar and Lantsov knew him, too. They think he's dead."

"He may as well be. They're all taken and twisted into something evil, servants of the Empire. Then they were sent back to hunt down other Jedi to kill or enslave." She took a deep breath - she'd been flexing her right hand again, and Inej eyed it, nervous. "Sometimes - a lot of the time - they hunted down untrained, Force-sensitive children, too. They were trained to hate too, and now it's all they know." There was a quiet pause, then, "The families were always slaughtered."

"And the Emperor's Hands are _worse_?" Inej could certainly imagine Dunyasha having been indoctrinated into kidnapping children, but how could you get much worse than that?

"They serve Morozova directly." Nina was staring into no man's land again, voice graver than Inej had ever heard it. Nina was such a bubbly person - it was always disconcerting when she dived into these sorts of topics. "The Inquisitors answer to Koroleva and aren't typically as well-trained - there are a lot of them, and she doesn't give them each much attention. But Emperor's Hands were specifically chosen from the ranks _because_ they were atypical, showed more skill in the Dark Side than the others. They're trained by the Emperor himself and instead of being used to hunt Jedi, they carry out individual tasks. They're deadly."

"How many of them are there?"

Nina frowned. "Half a dozen, maybe? I fought and killed one once - don't give me that look," she said at Inej's sudden peak in interest, "there's no way under any other circumstances I could have won that fight."

Inej was still sceptical.

"I'm serious," Nina insisted. "It was like the Hand. . . wanted to die, or something. Well, no: at first they were hell-bent on killing me and _'regaining Master's favour'_ , or something like that. But their desperation made them unbalanced; it wasn't a fair fight. They kept muttering about being replaced, about there being six. _'Always two there are'_ they'd say, then scoff." She sighed. "I got the impression that the Hand believed themselves to be the only one, to be special, but somehow found out there were more of them. They couldn't handle the betrayal of their trust - Hands give _everything_ of themselves to the Emperor - and in the end, they begged me to kill them, so they didn't have to serve him anymore."

"Sounds extreme."

Nina shrugged. "They're tapped into the Dark Side. It leads to people being somewhat. . . irrational."

"I can imagine." Dunyasha had seemed to wield cool, terrifying logic more than anything else, but she too had the razor gleam to her eye, edge to her voice, that made Inej think that in her slavish devotion to the Emperor, she would do. . .

Anything.

She was silent for too long. Nina cocked her head, curious, and asked, "Why all the questions?"

There was no harm in the truth, and though Inej knew better than anybody that secrets didn't keep their value in the spending, Nina deserved to know.

"I met one," she admitted, "in Pekka's palace. She was the Imperial agent tasked with carrying out the deal made with the Hutts. Dunyasha Lazareva."

"The White Blade," Nina instantly. "I've heard of her. She's. . . one of the better ones." _I'm surprised you got out alive_ , was what she left unsaid.

"Well, I can't take all the credit," Inej said with forced lightness. "Your thermal detonator did half the work for me."

Nina laughed at that. Inej only wished she could laugh at the rest of it.

* * *

"You're gonna join us?" Inej asked loudly, the words echoing round the hangar bay. Kaz fidgeted where he stood as she laughed. "Jesper really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"He can be persuasive," Kaz conceded, "as can you." She felt a smile coming on at that; he _had_ been listening!

He shifted position and scratched the back of his neck. "I want to do something to help this attack," he admitted, "but we both know I can't fly with you in the assault."

"Oh, I don't know about that," she said, half-teasingly, half-not. "You don't need to fly. I'm sure the corvettes could use a decent gunner like you."

Something dawned on his face. "Or you could."

Startled, she gave a confused smile. "Kaz, I'm leading the assault in a _starfighter_. An X-wing. There's only space for one person."

"Not if-" Kaz began, then stopped. His throat bobbed, his mouth worked but no sound came out. Then he just threw up his hands and it all came out in a rush. "I want you to take the _Barrel_."

Her smile dropped instantly, replaced by awe. "Kaz. . ." She turned to look at where the ship was docked, resplendent in all her patchwork, piece-of-junk beauty. "I-"

"You could fly her," Kaz insisted. "Take another of these crazy Rebels as co-pilot; I trust your judgement." Kaz was so selective normally about who could fly his precious ship that Inej was left stunned and gaping. He smiled slightly. "Just let me be gunner." It was a moment before he added, "General Ghafa."

It took her a few moments to breathe. "I- uh- Alright." She was breathing faster now. "I'll consult Tamar, but. . . Alright."

Kaz's smile widened, then he looked up at the _Barrel_. "I've never been in a full-scale battle before."

"You were at the Battle of Yavin."

"Only after everyone had died." The smile had dropped from his face; now he just looked pensive. "What it's like?"

Inej took a deep breath. "Terrifying." Another breath. "Absolutely terrifying."

* * *

The forest moon of Endor was, as one would expect, covered in forests. Jesper could see them from space, the surface covered in varying shades of green. Idly, he wondered if that meant the atmosphere was breathable to humans, then he dismissed the thought as stupid: the Rebellion wouldn't have sent them there if it wasn't.

"Fly casual," Nina told him.

"I _am_ flying casual!"

"Can everyone just calm down?" That was Wylan, nerves fraying his voice to a thread. "We're all tense. We'll have to make a pretty quick getaway if things go south."

Jesper winced, along with everyone else in the cockpit. Perhaps reminding everyone of the risks they were taking wasn't the best move, but no one could ever accuse Wylan of being tactful.

Silence fell as they kept on a steady course forward, until they'd curved round the bulk of the moon and set eyes on the Second Death Star for themselves.

"There she is," someone said. Jesper, despite knowing everyone in the cockpit relatively well, couldn't have said who.

Nor did he want to, or dwell on the matter, as he kept his eyes firmly ahead above the controls. There was a large fleet of Star Destroyers clustered around the battle station - _Koroleva is_ definitely _here_ \- which partially concealed it, but he could still back out its shape, half of its body still a patchwork mass of cables and rods.

The comms began to chime.

"They're hailing us," Wylan said, quite unnecessarily, but everyone was grateful to have someone acknowledge it aloud.

Nina was the one who accepted the transmission. _"We have you on our screen now, please identify."_

Jesper took a deep breath and choked; he didn't think he could do it. So Matthias leaned forward, around Nina's seat in the co-pilot's chair, and said, "This is shuttle _Tydirium_ , requesting deactivation of the deflector shield."

They kept moving forward in space, until they were almost align with the bridge of the Star Destroyer the transmission was no doubt coming from.

Nina turned to stare out the viewport at it as they went, and Jesper had to wonder if she sensed something he didn't.

* * *

Unseen behind the helmet, Koroleva's eyes narrowed as she stood on the bridge of her flagship and watched the unassuming cargo shuttle drift slowly by. Not that it going slowly was unusual, _lambda_ shuttles not exactly being known for their speed or manoeuvrability; rather, how _fast_ it was going was what was unusual. That, and a Force presence familiar to her, hated, that brought back the icy chill of Hoth and the hot shame of being ordered to retreat even in victory.

The communications officer on the computer terminal below her was communicating with them. "Shuttle _Tydirium_ , transmit the clearance code for shield passage."

Koroleva didn't turn, but she did listen to the code the pilot gave in response. It was an old code, but it checked out. . .

"Where is that shuttle going?" she asked, turning to the communications officer.

The incompetent man nearly jumped out of his skin at her sudden question, but scrambled to find an answer. "Shuttle _Tydirium_ , what is your cargo and destination?"

There was static at the end of the line, as if the pilot had to take a moment to compose himself before answering. It was a perfectly normal response - it wasn't like Imperial Star Destroyers weren't built to be intimidating - but when coupled with the abnormally strong surge of anxiety she felt through the Force, it was suspicious.

Finally, the answered, the static of the comms covering any tremor there may have been in the person's voice. _"Parts and technical crew for the forest moon."_

She was quiet for a few moments, doing her best impression of a monolith, and she felt the officer's fear swell with every passing moment until finally, he couldn't stay quiet.

"Their code's an old one, but it checks out," he said. "I _was_ about to clear them." She still didn't respond. "Should I hold?"

Zenik and her. . . associate. . . were here. That much was evident. But Koroleva had to think, had to assess. They could open fire on that shuttle right now and kill them all - _yes_ , then that would obliterate the chance of any future confrontation between them where Zenik's movements were too much like Zoya's, her anger too familiar, her very presence calling back every buried bitterness and strife Starkiller had had with her old master. _Yes_. That would solve everything. She opened her mouth to say so. . .

. . .then she froze.

The Emperor would want to hear about this. Would _know_ if he didn't hear about this.

_You are no longer entitled to your previous autonomy, your previous power; now, you are an extension of my will._

She couldn't. He would punish her. And though any physical punishment he could inflict on her would pale in comparison to the emotional turmoil she would experience should she have to face Zenik and everything she stood for again, he could demote her even further. Make her life a living hell.

She gave a sigh, too quiet for the vocoder to pick up. She was tired of this. Tired of being ordered around, having no free choice, second-guessing herself. And although she'd never had any control over the latter, she missed the times when her friends had asked her what she wanted to do, instead of telling her what to do. She missed serving next to Tamar during the Clone Wars, how her friend had challenged her at every turn to do better, be better, _become_ better.

Then Mal had died, and Tamar hadn't been around, and things just got worse and worse.

Nikolai had been around, she remembered. _Don't trust the Chancellor_ , he'd insisted. She wished she'd listened - then she might not have been stuck in this mess. The things she'd done at his behest. . .

The things she'd _done_. . .

_I'm the epitome of trustworthiness._

_And I'm a Sith Lord._

_I_ am _a Sith Lord_ , she mused bitterly. But, considering their places on opposing sides of a civil war, she doubted she was in any position to trust him.

She should blast them.

She should blast that ship to plasma and stardust, never tell the Emperor who had been aboard, show him, _prove_ to him, that she was still capable of free will. That she was-

She took a deep breath, and felt her bones ache with weariness.

Tired.

She was so, so tired.

She reached out with her senses again, and felt Zenik's cautious attempt at shielding herself and her acquaintance on board. Alina almost snorted, but she felt further - further, past the Mandalorian whose darksaber had become legendary, past the late Van Eck's defected son, past the cockpit into the hold, where the ship wasn't carrying spare parts at all but Rebels, here to take out the Death Star that Koroleva hated almost as much as they did.

And among them. . .

Tamar.

Tamar, who'd compared droid kill totals with her at the end of every battle.

Tamar, who'd somehow managed to make the comparison between Alina Starkiller and a weed sound complimentary.

Tamar, who'd been her friend.

She closed her eyes, breathed deeply.

Tamar, who was walking into a trap.

She opened her eyes again. "No." She'd been quiet for so long that when she answered his question, the officer jumped. "Leave them to me."

A breath, then:

"I will deal with them myself."

* * *

_"Shuttle_ Tydirium _. Deactivation of the deflector shield will commence immediately. Follow your present course."_

The moment the comm clicked off there were cheers around the cockpit.

"I told you it was gonna work," Wylan said excitedly - too excitedly to realise that he'd said no such thing. He kept gushing on, all of the pent up stress in all of them rushing out at once.

Jesper glanced at Nina. Her face was very pale, and even as they moved past the Star Destroyer and into the moon's atmosphere her gaze remained fixed on a spot behind them, like her attention had been caught and held by something - or some _one_ \- standing on that Star Destroyer's bridge.


	32. Episode XXXII

Wylan hadn't realised how much he missed plant life.

There was a lot of it at base, and had been on Naboo, and Yavin IV before that, but he'd spent so much time on ships in hyperspace recently that he'd forgotten how fresh air could be when it wasn't recycled every six hours, or how warm light could be when it actually came from a star, and not electronic fixtures above their heads.

Endor brought it all back. Trees as tall as he'd ever seen them, ferns that came up to his waist, and many that went further. . . General Kir-Bataar had asked him to pick up the pace three times already, his wonder with it all causing him to wander and trail behind her disciplined Pathfinders.

"According to the intel," according to _Inej's_ intel, he noted, "the base of the shield generator should be just up ahead, so watch out for stormtroopers."

There was a rustling in the bushes behind him and Wylan turned, startled, but saw none of the stark white armour he was afraid he would see.

"What are the larger species native to this moon?" he murmured to Jesper. "Any sentients?"

"As I understand it," Jesper replied, "there _is_ a sentient species native to this moon called Ewoks, who come up to about my leg, or your shoulders," Wylan scowled at the smirk he wore as he said that, "and are essentially walking, talking teddy bears. I hope we don't run into any," he added idly. "I wouldn't want them to get caught up in this. I mean, can you imagine a bunch of teddy bears attacking and defeating an Imperial garrison?"

"In a kids' holo, perhaps."

They grinned at each other, distracted, and almost walked into Matthias.

"Get down!" he barked at them, making a violent motion with his hand. Wylan, well-trained after several years with him as a bodyguard, didn't question it and dropped like a stone.

"Stormtroopers," he heard Nina, half submerged in shrubbery, hiss. He shifted to get a better look.

And sure enough, _there_ was the stark white armour he'd been expecting. The shape of the helmet was slightly different to that of normal stormtroopers; he breathed a sigh of relief. They were only scout troopers - and there were only four of them at that. Even so, if they were caught. . .

"We can't let them see us," he murmured.

"We can't let them report back," Nina corrected. "There's no way to get round them without being noticed - I vote we take them out and steal their speeder bikes. It'll make our journey time that much shorter."

Tamar shifted in the undergrowth and pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars. Peering through them, she said, "They have orders to check in every rotation, which is where they change patrols. Their absence would be noticeable, and raise suspicions."

"How long is a rotation?" Nina's eyes were narrowed in the direction of the troopers.

"Six hours."

Wylan blew out a breath between his teeth. The fleet would have jumped to hyperspace from where it was docked at Sullust an hour after they landed on the moon, according to the schedule; the hyperspace trip was about eleven hours, and he didn't know how much time they'd wasted trekking through the undergrowth.

So he asked. "How long do we have to get the shield generator down?"

Tamar consulted her chronometer. "Seven hours."

"And how long will it take them to react and repair or reinstall the shield generator?" Nina asked pointedly.

Tamar turned to Wylan and Jesper for the answer - the former being the demolitions expert, the latter being their best mechanic present.

Wylan said, "The demolitions I have will disable it pretty effectively, and maybe - if we're lucky - start an electrical fire."

He turned to Jesper, who frowned. "So. . . with the damage that would do. . . the size the generator would have to be. . . It would take at least two rotations to repair it."

"Twelve hours?" Nina turned to Tamar. "See? We can take this lot out, and if we've destroyed the generator by the time the patrol is supposed to check in, they won't be suspicious - they'll know we're here by the destruction we'll cause."

Tamar considered it, head tilted to the left, then nodded. "Alright," she conceded. "We can use those bikes for recon of the sort of defences they have set up there. Pathfinders," she raised her voice slightly as she gave the order, "engage."

Nina smiled slightly, and Wylan felt a rush of fear at the expression. She reached out her hand-

And Jesper tackled her.

* * *

" _W_ _hat are you doing_?" Nina snapped as blasters began firing, the melee of shots thankfully flying right over their heads. No one ever said stormtroopers had good aim.

Nevertheless, they were too close for anyone's liking. Jesper threw them both aside, behind a bush. "You are _not_ using the Force choke thing on them," he told her fiercely. At her attempt at protest, he argued, "Inej told me what happened with Oomen, and I told her what happened in Pekka's palace. We're worried about you. You don't have the doctrines of the Jedi to keep you on the straight and narrow anymore, so we will. Inej isn't here," he placed a hand on Nina's shoulder, "but I am."

For a moment, she wanted to argue. She wanted to kick him off and punch something, choke someone-

But that was the Dark Side talking.

She sighed, and leaned into his touch.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

He smiled. "I know you are." He looked up at Wylan. "They finished shooting each other to bits yet, lordling?"

Wylan huffed a laugh as he turned to behold the smoking corpses of the troopers in the undergrowth ahead, and the four speeder bikes they'd left behind. "Yeah," he said, "they're done."

* * *

"I gave you orders to stay on the _Devastator_ ," Morozova said. "Why are you not on your command ship?"

"A small Rebel force has penetrated the shield and landed on the Sanctuary Moon. I believe they're trying to destroy the shield generator."

The Emperor just waved his hand. "Yes, I know. What of it?"

Koroleva paused then. It was a slight pause, but not slight enough for Morozova, who was attuned to _everything_ , to not notice it. "Zenik is with them."

_That_ made him sit up and take notice - especially when coupled with her pause. "And someone else."

It wasn't a question.

Her reply stuck in her throat. "The Rebel General, Tamar Kir-Bataar." She sighed when she said it, but there was nothing else she could say. She'd sacrificed her right to Tamar's friendship a long time ago; now, despite their fraught relationship, the Emperor was all she had left.

She could _feel_ his glee, not just see it from the slow smile that took over his face. Nevertheless, he was cautious. "Are you sure?"

"I have felt it."

"Strange, then, that I have not," he mused. "But it is of no importance. If Zenik and Kir-Bataar are as near as you say, I will send Agent Lazareva to find them, and bring them to us. I want them to watch their Rebellion burn."

" _Lazareva_?" She couldn't keep the disgust out of her voice - not just for her in particular, but for the Hands in general. The Sith always worked in pairs, he had told her; what place did _they_ have among those of the Dark Side?

He nodded, his irritation at her questioning his orders clear.

"She failed to take care of the Wraith _and_ to see the simplest of trade deals through with even a low-minded being such as a Hutt. She's failed-"

"-less than you have in recent months, my old friend." The title was a sneer. "She will not fail me now, whereas _you_ might."

She hated him so, so much. She tried to draw on that hatred, use it to bolster herself - her resolve _and_ her powers - but it danced away from her, evading her grip. She'd never managed to hold onto it for extended periods of time and now, when she was so uncertain, that shortcoming kept coming back to bite her again and again.

"Return to your flagship," he ordered. "I will send for you when Lazareva has succeeded in her mission."

There was nothing else she could say. There was nothing else left for her to say, other than, "Yes, my master."

* * *

"We'll set up a camp, of sorts," General Kir-Bataar said as she shrugged off her pack. "Van Eck can assemble the demolitions here while four patrols go out to scout the area, two people per patrol. Two patrols with speeder bikes, two without them. You two," she pointed to four of her Pathfinders, "go on foot. You two," another two Pathfinders, her brother's this time, "you take two of the bikes. Fahey," she turned to Jesper, "you and Ruby get the other two."

Jesper turned to see who she was gesturing to: a blonde-haired human female about the same age as the General, with a tattoo of a sunburst covering half her face. He nodded at her, and she nodded back.

"If you can't find your way back to camp, I have a homing beacon operating on a cloaked frequency," Tamar continued, drawing back her sleeve to reveal a small, violet device on the inside of her left arm. "Access the frequency, and you'll be able to find your way back. Understood?"

There was a chorus of affirmatives, then Tamar dismissed them. "Then to your stations."

Jesper turned to get one of the speeder bikes, but someone grabbed his wrist. It was Nina.

He met her eyes, wide and earnest. "Thank you," she said. "For stopping me from strangling those troopers."

"Anytime," he said flippantly, finding himself oddly uncomfortable with how sincere this conversation was.

"I mean it, Jesper." There was an aborted attempt at a laugh, then: "You and Inej. . . you're really worried about me?"

He was the one who tried - and failed - to laugh, this time. " You're our friend. It's a job to worry about you."

Nina glanced at the ground, the back up again. She made to say something, then-

"Fahey!" He looked over his shoulder to see Ruby waving at him. "We're heading off!"

"Well, I guess it's my job to worry about you now," Nina said in response, a lot more cheerful than she had been for the rest of the conversation. It felt feigned, but he went with it anyway.

Until he met her gaze, and she had to look away. "May the Force be with you." Her voice cracked.

He squeezed her should lightly, then let his hand drop. "And you." He let Nina's hand drop as he took a step back.

As he walked away, he felt her watching him leave, even as he climbed onto a speeder bike beside Ruby and zoomed off into the forest.

* * *

Kaz had been insufferable since they'd jumped to hyperspace, but it wasn't like it was a surprise. Being insufferable was his way of dealing with stuff. For instance, right now he was dealing with his fear of the imminent battle by harassing every gunner they'd brought onboard the _Barrel_ in the minutiae of how to treat the various parts of his beloved ship.

Dirix, in the seat next to her, raised an eyebrow. "Is he always like this?"

Inej sighed and slumped against the pilot's seat. "Yes. Yes he is."

He smirked. "Then I can see why you like him."

She gave him a glare from under her eyelashes. Dirix was one of the best pilots in Green Squadron, and he was pretty respectful most of the time - it was part of the reason she'd asked him to fly Kaz's precious _Barrel_ ; he wouldn't bash it up just to be mean - but he was nosy. Very, very nosy.

"How long until we reach our destination?" she asked in an attempt to forestall further questions (and innuendos). They'd jumped to hyperspace the moment they'd received the signal from Tamar indicating that they'd made it safely to the moon, and they had to be well into the trip by now.

Dirix glanced at the navicomputer, then the chrono. "Five hours."

* * *

Wylan had just finished unloading and constructing an explosive charge for perhaps the thousandth time when there was a rustling in the trees behind him. His head jerked up suddenly, very nearly spilling the two explosive charges. He struggled to right himself quickly; when apart, the two liquids contained in the charges were harmless, but once they interacted. . . Well, they did some damage.

He took a deep breath as he righted himself, then inserted the fuse. There. Done.

He was still shaking slightly.

"Are you alright, Wylan?" Matthias went into instant panic mode. "What happened?"

He shook his head distractedly. "I'm fine, I just got startled by a sudden movement in the bushes. Nearly spilt the charges." That should have been the end of the matter, except-

"I felt something too," Nina said, frown creasing her face. "I'll go and investigate it."

"Don't," Wylan said without thinking, suddenly, inexplicably, having a bad feeling about this. "I'm sure it's nothing. Just. . . I don't know. Jesper said there were creatures called Ewoks on this moon? It was probably just them."

"I'm with Nina," General Kir-Bataar said. She jerked her chin at the direction the sound had come from. "We should check it out anyway. I'll go with you to investigate. No one should be walking off alone, and Helvar is needed to watch over Van Eck while the Pathfinders maintain the perimeter."

Wylan still didn't like the idea, but it wasn't like he could object, was it?

So he didn't.

But he couldn't shake the feeling he got, watching Nina's retreating back, like he'd never see her again.

* * *

"Where did you sense they were, exactly?" Tamar asked, once they'd been trekking for around ten minutes, the camp out of earshot behind them. Nina frowned and stretched out with her senses again.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "They were around this area, but since then they've moved." Which just made it harder for them to spot. There were many places to hide in their immediate vicinity - too many.

She stretched out again. _Focus_. She closed her eyes in attempt to grasp on to that single, elusive Force signature. "Wait, I can feel them. They should be. . ."

Tamar was silent as she trailed off, focusing, _searching_. Silence was odd for Tamar, who always had something to say, but Nina figured she'd spent enough time around Jedi to know how to let them focus.

"Right. . . _here?_ " She was confused now. The signature had coalesced into something vaguely familiar, and it should be standing. . . right in front of her.

She opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the fury on Tamar's unconscious face. The second thing she saw was the mercenary holding her up.

"Drop your saber."

It wouldn't do much good - Nina was a Jedi after all, and could summon it to her hand at will. It would just take a little longer. But the mercenary - no, _Emperor's Hand_ \- holding Tamar with a blaster to her head clearly knew that any momentary advantage she could get over her was worth it.

"You must be Dunyasha," Nina said conversationally.

Dunyasha bared her teeth in a sort of smile. It was undoubtably her: she had the same amber hair and eyes, wore the same outfit. Inej had been right about her. "And you're Nina Zenik." She jerked her chin towards Tamar. "My master wants to speak to you both."

"What if I don't want to speak to him?"

Dunyasha kept a tight hold of Tamar, and flicked the blaster off the stun setting, to kill. "Then your general dies."

Nina swallowed. "Then you'll have failed your mission. Your master won't be pleased."

"All he cares about is Kir-Bataar's death," Dunyasha snapped. "He doesn't care where or when she dies - preferably in his company, in front of Lady Koroleva, while the last dregs of the Rebellion die with her, but as long as she is dead," she pressed the blaster further into Tamar's head, "I have succeeded."

Nina's mind was racing. They needed to get that shield generator down, or Inej and her forces would be pulverised. They needed Tamar's leadership and experience to do that.

So it wasn't really even a decision to reach out and summon her lightsaber to hand, more like instinct, like the only logical thing to do.

But Dunyasha was logical as well. And she was faster than Nina.

She dropped Tamar and had her blaster up and shooting before Nina could even light her saber. Nina dodged the first. Deflected the second, the third. Jumped the leg aiming to kick her, deflected the fourth-

The fifth seared a hole through her fatigues, numbing her arm and making her fingers spasm. She dropped her lightsaber.

She glanced up at Dunyasha, and the last thing she saw was the blue ring of the stun shot that hit her full in the chest.


	33. Episode XXXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this two/three days early because I'm not going to have access to wifi for at least a week after today. I probably won't be updating next Sunday because of it, either.

The sound of the speeder bikes was perhaps the only sound to be heard. Jesper found it suspicious.

"Where are the animals?" he asked Ruby when they'd stopped the bikes for a brief moment. "I can sense billions of life forms in the air around us: why aren't they making any noise?"

Ruby, despite seeming gruff and battle-hardened in appearance, proved to be surprisingly cooperative when it came to his strange, random questions. When she spoke, Jesper almost thought that she must have been very, very eager a decade or two ago, only for the reality of war to steal that from her.

But they couldn't steal all of it - as evidenced by the fact she answered his question. "I don't know about the insects and such," she said slowly, "but I know that the stormtroopers around here have been hunting the mammals. They've probably learned by now to keep quiet or to flee."

" _Hunting_ them?" Jesper couldn't quite believe it. "I thought this was meant to be a Legacy world? A _Sanctuary_ Moon."

Ruby just shrugged as she uncapped a bottle of water. "They blew up Alderaan." _I doubt they'd respect any boundary a Legacy world would offer._ She tilted her head back and poured the water into her mouth.

 _Right_. Suddenly desperate to change the subject, Jesper asked the first question that came to mind: "Where did you get that tattoo on your face?"

Her left hand automatically touched the stark ink lines, even as she lowered the bottle and replaced the cap. "I served in the Clone Wars, in the Soldat Sol."

"The _what_?"

She looked at him for a moment, as if she genuinely could not comprehend him not understanding that, then laughed. "Right, you wouldn't know. We were a legion of volunteers who served alongside the clones, led by General Alina Starkiller."

A rush of cold went down his back. Did Ruby know about Starkiller?

"It's alright," she said, seeing his discomfort. "I wasn't with my general when she died, but I know she must have died a hero. I mean, it was the clones who executed Order Sixty-Six - and she didn't serve with clones. She served with us, volunteers. So if she died, she died alongside her troops, trying to protect other Jedi from their own. And if she's still alive," she smiled faintly as she shrugged. "Well, that's just even better, isn't it?"

 _Not if she's the one you're trying to blow up_. But Jesper kept his mouth shut. If Ruby didn't know about Koroleva, then he wouldn't be the one to tell her.

"Anyway, I can't really remember why we chose the name _Soldat Sol_ , instead of sticking to our number. We were the five-oh-first legion, but I guess we wanted a proper name. And," she rubbed her arm, "well, I guess we chose one that meant 'sun soldiers' in the General's native tongue because our insignia was the golden sunburst." She pointed at the tattoo on her face. "I was young and zealous, and I loved my brothers and siblings. I wanted to show it."

Jesper nodded. He'd heard of the 501rst in fact - they'd been legends during and after the war, as had their commander, and he'd heard a lot of speculation in taverns on whether or not they'd survived Order 66. "So, the tattoo."

"So the tattoo."

He nodded again, and had opened his mouth to ask another when a blaster shot suddenly rang out.

Ruby immediately showed her mettle. "Get down!" She drew her own blaster even as they both dropped to the floor, and before he could blink there were two stormtroopers face down on the ground with smoking holes in their armour.

He rolled behind a bush for cover and took aim, getting one clear in the head. He pressed further into the bush as a shot carved a crimson streak straight for his shoulder; it passed close enough that he could feel the heat begin the fray the threads of the fabric of his fatigues, but it missed all the same. He shot the shooter, then pulled out his lightsaber to deflect a few more.

Stormtrooper patrols were small. Before long, everyone was dead.

Ruby glanced around - methodically, left to right - then stood from her crouch. "Good shooting," she told him offhandedly. "But there's probably more of them." She didn't blink as his extinguished his purple lightsaber; he supposed she would have seen _plenty_ of lightsabers just like it during the Clone Wars.

He stretched out with his senses - and felt an unusual concentration of life forms just over the next ridge. "There are," he said. "An abnormal amount."

"How many?" Her expression was calculating.

He stretched out again, and did his best to count. "A regiment, I'd say."

"Then that's their base. That's where the shield generator is."

Jesper nodded. There were too many troopers for it to be a patrol - far, far too many.

"Wait." Ruby looked torn between grinning that they'd achieved the aim, or frowning at the sheer opposition they would face. "An _entire regiment_?"

He nodded.

"But that's _three thousand two hundred troopers_."

He nodded again.

She swore. "We have twelve Pathfinders, plus your crew of five, and Tamar. That's eighteen people." She swore again. "Why would they send so many troops to defend a shield generator that's kept secret? Wouldn't that be conspicuous? It doesn't make any sense, unless. . ." She jerked suddenly, eyes blowing wide.

"Unless they know that we know," Jesper said gravely. "Unless they know that we're here. There was that whole kerfuffle with the clearance codes, where they kept digging for information, remember?"

"But if they knew, why would they let us through?"

He didn't know the answer to that. "To destroy us on the ground?"

"But _why risk it_?" She actually stood up now, and started pacing. "Why risk the infinitesimal chance that we would succeed and let us through? They could've blasted us up there. What have we done since arriving that they want us to do?"

There was a moment's silence as they considered it, then-

"We summoned the fleet here."

Ruby's gaze cut to his.

"Tamar sent the signal to tell them to jump to hyperspace," Jesper said, heart-rate increasing rapidly. "So they have us on the ground, only posing a threat should we overcome a hundred to one odds and take down the shield generator, while up there they have several capital ships and an intact shield, with the entire Rebel fleet flying right into the waiting bloodbath." He could feel the blood draining from his face, feel the panic coming on. "It's a trap."

"That's it," she said.

He looked over at her. "How- how can you be so calm?"

She met his gaze head on. "It's a trap. That's why they're here, and that's what their aim is. Now, Jesper," she placed a hand on his shoulder, " _tell me how we can fix this_."

He was silent. He didn't know what to say.

But Ruby did.

"We can do our job." Her breathing was coming quicker now as well, but there was a fire in her eyes, a fierce resolve that hadn't been there before, even though perhaps it should've. "We can _take out the shield generator, and give them a fighting chance._ " She met him dead in the eye. "Despite all the odds, we have to win this."

"Never tell me the odds," he said weakly.

"Exactly." She patted him on the back. "Now, let's get back to camp and report everything we've worked out."

The ride was a grim one. Not a single word was said until Jesper glanced around the forest - all of which looked the same anyway, but that was beside the point - and commented, "This isn't the way we came."

Ruby didn't hear him over the whirr of the speeders, but by now he was sure he was right. He waved to get her attention, then shouted, "This isn't the way we came!"

She glanced around, but clearly she didn't disagree. "I'm tracking Tamar's homing beacon!" she shouted back. "Perhaps they've moved? That was the point of the beacon!"

Jesper shook his head and pressed his lips together. Something didn't feel right.

And something _wasn't_ right, which became quickly evident when they came upon a glade where the signal was coming from, but Tamar was nowhere to be found.

"This can't be right. . ." he whispered to himself, glancing round and probing the area with the Force. There were no sentient life forms in the immediate vicinity. "No one's here."

"But they were." Ruby had crouched among the undergrowth, her eyes tracking across the ground. "Look. There was a fight here."

Jesper blinked, then looked again. Sure enough, the grass had been flattened and bent and uprooted in places, with bushes missing leaves and branches broken and bending inwards. Some act of violence had happened here.

Almost unconsciously, he bent down and pressed his hand to a spot of kicked earth. He stretched out his Force senses, feeling for the emotions left imprinted there in recent times. Pain, shock, desperation, and. . . He drew his hand back sharply.

Hate.

The Dark Side.

An Inquisitor had been here, perhaps? Nina _had_ warned him on the trip here that they might encounter one. . .

He shook himself, and pressed his hand to the dirt again. Yes, someone wielding the Dark Side had been here (he wasn't skilled enough to discern much more than that) and they had taken Tamar.

Tamar and-

 _Nina_.

He choked as he staggered to his feet, Ruby shooting him an alarmed look as he did.

"We need to find the others," he snapped. " _Now_."

* * *

When Nina came to, the first thing she was aware of was the humming of a ship's sublight engines.

The second thing she was aware of was the truly terrifying image of Koroleva's helmet surveying her.

" _You_ ," she spat out, wrenching herself forward out of the chair on the ship that she'd been bound to, only to find herself collapsing back onto it. _Blast_. Just how hard had Dunyasha hit her?

"Me," the Sith Lord said dispassionately, then turned away. Of course; she wasn't interested in Nina. She hated Nina, and that was it.

She was interested in Tamar.

Tamar, who was awake and bound and practically snarling at her. Tamar, whose golden eyes suddenly looked a little too close to yellow for her liking, even if Nina knew it was impossible. Tamar didn't have the Force, so she certainly couldn't have the Dark Side.

" _Murderer_ ," the general spat. "You murdering piece of-"

"Nice to see you too," Koroleva said, the tone of her vocoder almost. . . droll? She tilted her helmet towards Dunyasha, whom Nina hadn't even realised was standing there. "Leave. Go check on the pilot."

Dunyasha's lips pressed themselves into a tight smile, but she left.

Once she was gone, Tamar drew herself up - at least, she did as far as she could when she was hogtied to a chair in much the same way Nina was. "You killed Nadia," she said, voice rising with every syllable. "You slaughtered the order I respected, overturned the government I loved, and then you tried to kill me, my brother _and_ Nikolai. Several times." She took a deep breath. " _How the fuck do you expect me to greet you_."

Koroleva just sat there, motionless. Nina tried to probe her with the Force, but her shielding was too strong; it was like poking a brick wall. "The Jedi were corrupt. The Republic was corrupt. I made something better. More effective."

"Right," Tamar drawled. "Because a totalitarian regime is definitely fairer than a democracy run by the people."

"I said _more effective_ , not _fairer_." Koroleva stood then, and starting pacing around the room. Her balance was uncanny; the way she walked, one would never think she was on a ship that was shifting under her very feet. "The Republic was the rotting corpse of democracy, controlled by bureaucrats and companies that sought to use politics to turn more and more profit, at the expense of everyday folk who suffered because no one listened to their problems."

"And the Empire does so much better."

"The galaxy was ravaged by war," Koroleva said simply. "Mal," both she and Tamar seemed to flinch at the name, "did his best to organise relief aid, but again, the bureaucrats got in his way. The Empire eliminated such bureaucrats, and enabled direct action to be taken, without wasting months on nitpicking the details. Once all necessary aid has been distributed, and the galaxy is no longer at war, we will be able to reinstate some measure of democracy."

"You. . ." Tamar shook her head. "You actually believe that." There was no reply. "Alina, the Emperor _dissolved_ the Senate."

Koroleva had tensed up. "Do _not_ call me that-"

"Where is the humanitarian aid you speak of?" Tamar shouted over her. "Where was the aid when the citizens of Ryloth suffered in famine, only to be taken as slaves - by _your_ Empire? Where was the aid when Kashyyyk was plundered and besieged, and the Wookiees taken as slave labour as well?"

"And where was your precious Rebellion in all of this," Koroleva replied, voice deadly soft, "when it was insurgencies on those planets that led to this suffering? Did they back down? Did they try to reduce the harm caused? No," she said before Tamar could, "they only _made things worse_."

"I'm not having this argument with you," Tamar said heatedly. "I'm not going to waste my time trying to convince a person who is being _wilfully blind_. You're a good person, Alina - at least, you were. You _know_ that you're wrong. You just. Don't. Care."

Koroleva actually took a step back at that. "You're wrong."

"Take off your helmet." Tamar lifted her chin. "Take off your helmet, look me in the eye, and tell me that you genuinely believe that what you're doing is right."

Koroleva didn't move. The silence damned her.

"We all loved you, General," Tamar whispered into it. "All of the Soldat Sol - we _all loved you_. And we volunteered to fight because we loved the Jedi, and the Republic, _and you_. You weren't just a hero to the rest of the galaxy - you were a hero to us, as well."

Koroleva turned her head to look straight at Tamar for the first time in this whole conversation. "Then I guess you never really knew me at all."

* * *

"If Nina and the general aren't back in another two minutes, I'm going to look for them," Matthias said as he paced, nervousness written in every line of his posture.

Wylan didn't disagree. They'd only gone to investigate something, and they hadn't returned in half an hour. But. . . "You shouldn't go off alone. It's not safe."

Matthias turned back to Wylan. "I shouldn't leave you alone, either," he said.

"That's not what I was saying-"

"But it's right." Matthias sat back down next to him as he finished off the next charge. "I'm your bodyguard. I should stay here to protect you, send one of these Pathfinders," he gestured to the ones seated a little way away from them in the glade, talking amongst themselves, "to investigate. At least," he added, "I _was_ your bodyguard. I doubt your father's paid me at all in the last few months."

Wylan had to laugh.

"But the sentiment remains," Matthias concluded as he ruffled Wylan's hair. Wylan ducked his head down, scowling - Matthias was only seven years older than him! - but was secretly pleased. He'd spent so much time building weapons and organising supplies and all in all being a responsible Rebel that he couldn't help but feel like nothing of his childhood was left in him. Especially since the hope his young self had always harboured that his father _did_ love him had faltered and died with the man himself.

At least he still had Matthias - and not just because Matthias was paid to do it, because it was his job. Because Matthias was his _friend_.

And now his friend's face had become distant again, because was _worried_ , because his (girl)friend had gone missing, along with the leader of this fool's quest.

"You love her, don't you?" Wylan asked suddenly, some freak idea taking hold of his tongue and moving it for him.

Matthias was as startled as him. "Who?"

"Nina."

If anything, Matthias looked even more startled than before. "Do I?"

Wylan laughed. "You seem to."

"Oh."

"Maybe you two should talk this through later," he suggested, suddenly realising that he should probably get back to building the ammunitions. "I'm sorry, it was a bad time to bring it up."

Matthias didn't answer. He still looked faintly perplexed.

Then he looked straight at Wylan. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah," Matthias said, narrowing his eyes. "You and-"

"Jesper!" someone shouted. "Wait for-"

They never actually finished their sentence - or at least, Wylan never heard them finish their sentence, because almost immediately Jesper burst into the glade, face flushed and beaded with sweat, in an utmost state of panic.

Wylan was on his feet and concerned almost instantaneously. "What is it?"

Jesper's wild eyes found Wylan's. "Tamar and Nina got captured."

" _What_." That was Matthias, also on his feet now. There didn't seem much else to say.

Jesper held up something. "All we found was this."

The homing beacon Tamar had shown them earlier.

Wylan took a deep breath, then another, then another. He needed to-

Needed to-

_Think. Do._

Do _something_.

"Okay," he said, "so the Empire knows we're here-"

"Which means the whole mission's shot." One of the Pathfinders had approached to join the conversation; they didn't have a positive view on their prospects. "This entire prospect relied on our presence being a _secret_ here. Now we're revealed, separated, _and_ we've lost our leader."

"They knew about us anyway," the Pathfinder who'd come with Jesper - Ruby, Wylan remembered distantly - said. "This _whole thing was a trap_."

"I'm sorry," another Pathfinder said, coming up to join the conversation, " _what_?"

Ruby turned to them. "There is currently an entire regiment of stormtroopers guarding that shield generator. They leaked the information to us to bait us into coming, let us through the shield so we would send the signal to bring to rest of the fleet here, and then they're going to kill us and obliterate the fleet."

No one said a word. There wasn't really anything to say.

Except-

"We're doomed."

Ruby turned on the Pathfinder who said it. "Yes," she said baldly, "we are. But so is the Rebel Fleet if we don't get that shield generator down."

Her words of wisdom didn't seem to be inspiring her comrades, Wylan observed. Matthias still looked faintly green.

But Ruby wasn't finished yet. "These defences are formidable," she said. "Why?" No one answered. "Because the Empire doesn't underestimate us. They _know_ how good we are. And _I_ know we need that shield down. So don't tell me why we won't succeed. _Tell me how we will._ "

"Did you just quote the Princess of Alderaan at us?" one of the Pathfinders mused.

Ruby gave a grim smile. "Yes, I did. But is she right or not?"

The Pathfinders looked at each other. "She's right," they said after a moment. "But we only have two hours _at most_ to destroy the generator before the fleet arrives. The odds of that. . . How _are_ we going to do it?"

Ruby glanced at Jesper. "Well, as my Corellian friend here says 'Never tell me the odds.'"

Wylan looked down at the charges he'd been building, and, not for the first time, thought of Inej. She should've been here to destroy it - she could sneak in anywhere; she could sneak in here. She could plant the charges and skedaddle before it exploded. And if they timed it right, and got all of the troopers inside the contraption when it did. . .

Wait.

Wylan frowned at his charges, then looked up. "I'll do you one better," he said. Everyone looked at him in surprise, but he was already barrelling on, forming the plan in his head. It may not be a great one. . . but it could work.

He picked up one of his charges. "If you can't beat the odds. . ." The saying was Inej's as well - well, it was a smugglers' saying, but she was the one who'd _said it_ , all those months ago when they were planning the mission to Naboo and Wylan was to terrified to think. "Change the game."


	34. Episode XXXIV

Approaching the Death Star gave Nina a nasty sense of déjà vu. Déjà vu of the Death Star peering over Eadu, of it advancing, like a god of death, on Yavin. . .

The shuttle docked with the battle station, and the corridors they were marched through held with common Imperial tendencies towards utilitarian and nondescript, the hard grey shapes harsh for her to behold. She still felt the last twitches of energy from that stun bolt, and it made her tremble as her feet smacked against the floor, until the corridors became more and more dimly lit and the stormtroopers and officers milling about - some of them turning to stare with open curiosity and hostility - made way for the apathetic red guards, who, in their crimson robes and full-face helmets, betrayed no emotion at the sight of two so clearly important Rebel prisoners.

They turned another corner, Koroleva still not saying a single word, Dunyasha trailing behind them, to see an elevator guarded by two of the Royal Guards, their Force pikes crossed over the entrance. At Koroleva's approach, they stood up straight and uncrossed their pikes, allowing her inside with her prisoners and escort.

This part of the Death Star was clearly completely built, Nina mused, right down to the varnish on the floors and paint on the buttons of the elevator. Where were the unfinished parts? She'd seen the plans, of course, showing that the tunnels to the main reactor hadn't been sealed off yet, but why? Why would the Emperor's quarters - which was very clearly where they were - finished before the battle station itself was even giving effective armour? Shields could only do so much; did they _want_ people to try to destroy it?

Nina frowned. She didn't like the thought of that: the Empire rarely had such major oversights, unless they were intentional. Which meant. . .

. . . _did_ they want people to try to destroy it?

She clenched her fists, her binders pressed into her wrists as she did so. Koroleva didn't notice the action - at least, she didn't react to it - but Dunyasha turned her head and smiled slightly, sickly yellow eyes glittering. Nina wanted to bite, to scratch, to snarl at her-

-but the elevator had stopped moving. And the doors were opening.

And the Emperor was there. Up the stairs, along a walkway, seated in a throne at that faced a large, circular viewport. The throne turned to face them, and Nina tried not to tense up at the sight of him.

He looked older than Nina's memory and the propaganda reels told her, but she supposed that made sense; his age made him look. . . frailer, far from the image of strength his Empire sought to promote. But his smile was the one Nina remembered the Supreme Chancellor - and, before that, Baghra's Lightling - wearing frequently when she was a child, and he lingered around the Jedi Temple. It was a deceptively warm smile, and now she knew what he was like, she had to wonder what sort of mind was behind it.

Dunyasha walked forward and knelt before his throne. For the first time, Nina noticed her lightsaber hanging from her belt, her satchel over her shoulder. _That little-_

The Emperor paid Dunyasha no heed. "General Tamar Kir-Bataar," he greeted solemnly, his smile dropping. He nodded at her next. "Lieutenant Nina Zenik. It's nice to finally meet you." He was quiet for a moment, as if he expected them to respond.

And Tamar did. Just not pleasantly. "I don't have a habit of making small talks with tyrants."

The amiable expression dropped completely from his face at that. Now, though his tone was light - _taunting_ \- his face was. . . murderous.

"Forgive me," he said, standing up. Despite his age, his posture was impeccable, his black suit and cloak unwrinkled. "I had forgotten that no member of the Soldat Sol ever had time for subtleties." His gaze flicked to Koroleva, standing just behind them - between them and the door. "Especially its leader."

If the taunt bothered her, Koroleva's mask hid it.

"What do you want, you monster?" Tamar asked. Nina didn't know if she was consciously mocking the slow way Morozova spoke, the high-class accent he sported, but just the action of it lifted Nina's spirits a little.

"With you?" The Emperor settled back onto his throne. "I want to you to witness the death of your Rebellion, and then I want Alina here to kill you." Both Koroleva and Tamar flinched slightly at the use of _that_ name, but Tamar soon lifted her chin again and snarled.

"As for Zenik," the Emperor turned her gaze on her, "who has remained curiously quiet. . . I don't know. I'm debating whether or not I should make you watch your dear friend, the Wraith, be obliterated and your cause burn before I kill you, or simply make you another of my servants. Dear Dunyasha has been flagging recently," he eyed her, kneeling motionless on the floor."I could use a replacement."

"I'll never serve you," she spat, even as her heart beat hard against her chest. _Inej, Inej, Inej._

"You'll come to reconsider, I'm sure," he said simply, settling back further into his chair. He lifted his right hand and gestured from Dunyasha to rise. With that same hand, he summoned Nina's lightsaber and satchel from her belt to his hand; the lightsaber was placed on the arm of his throne, satchel settled down next to it. "But, speaking of the Wraith, Dunyasha," he hesitated, then looked straight at Nina and said silkily, "get in your fighter and obliterate the sorry excuse of a freighter known as the _Barrel_."

Dunyasha unbent her knee and stood, back straight. "It will be done, my master."

As she left the room, Morozova smiled at Nina. "Soon, that will be you."

"You're wrong," she said heatedly. "Soon I'll be dead, and you with me."

"Nina. . ." Tamar hissed, then fell silent.

"Don't worry, Kir-Bataar," the Emperor assured her. "I already know about your imminent attack."

Tamar tensed, and Nina forgot to breathe. _What-_

"Who do you think allowed the Rebellion to know the location of the shield generator and the existence of this battle station in the first place?" he asked. "Thousands of my best troops are waiting on the moon below. Oh," he added, almost apologetically, "I'm afraid the shield will be quite operational when your friends arrive. And then. . ."

"They'll be slaughtered," Tamar said. Her lips were wan. "You-" Her face screwed up in anger; she leapt forwards, bound hands or no, screaming, "You _monster_ -"

She stopped mid shout. She stopped in _mid air_ , feet kicking off the ground, hands scrabbling at her throat.

Just like Oomen had.

That trick, the one Nina had used so exorbitantly, that Inej and Jesper had been afraid of, was being used by-

She turned to see Koroleva standing, a silver monolith, hand stretched out and finger and thumb pinched together.

-by _her_.

"Release her, Lady Koroleva." Morozova almost sounded bored. "If you kill her now, she'll miss the show."

* * *

"The shield generator isn't a machine," Jesper explained as they lay flat down on the grass and squinted over a ridge at it. He passed the macrobinoculars to Wylan. "It's more of a base, or a building, with the reactor that generates the shield at its core and the army barracks around it. If we want to destroy the generator, we'll have to either take out the control room, or we could take out the reactor. Then again," he added, half to himself, "that would probably wipe out the entire building, with us in it, so let's not do that."

"If we destroy the control room," Wylan said, peering through the macrobinoculars, "will the shield come down?"

"Of course, lordling," Jesper said with a confidence he didn't feel, turning to face him. "If we destroy the control room, there's no power being routed to keep the reactors working, so no shield. Shouldn't you know this?"

"I-" Wylan seemed to pick up on his teasing then; he blew out an exasperated breath between his teeth, and turned his head towards him. "You can be so difficult sometimes."

"I can," Jesper admitted, suddenly aware of how close his and Wylan's faces were. "I really can," he finished without the heat, and found himself leaning forward-

"What if the power's not routed from the control room, but from another source?" Matthias asked, jerking Jesper's mind back to the present. He scowled at him, but Matthias ignored him, taking the macrobinoculars off Wylan to survey the defences. "And how do we get _inside_ to plant the charges in the first place?"

Jesper turned back to Wylan, but he'd already turned away, _blast it_. He scowled again.

And then again as Ruby, on his left, smacked the back of his head.

"Stay focused," she muttered, then raised her voice. "If the power's routed from another source, we'll have to find another way. But as for getting in. . . I have an idea about that." She held out her hand for the macrobinoculars and Matthias gave them to her. She scanned the outer layers of the patrols. "Jesper, can you make the bushes over there rustle a little, like someone's spying? They're already aware of a Rebel presence on the moon; they're bound to send someone to check it out."

"And?"

"And we'll take out those troopers, and steal their armour," she said, like she was explaining it to a child.

"They won't just let any trooper in that door," Matthias objected. "We'd need codes, clearances, the whole deal."

Wylan said slowly, "The thing about Imperials is that they're arrogant. They're cocky. I noticed a comlink attached to the door up there, to allow communication between the control room and the outside. If we stage an attack on the door and get someone in a stormtrooper helmet use it to claim that the Rebels have fled into the woods, and that they need extra troops or something, the Imperials will be too drunk on their own euphoria to think about the lack of clearance codes."

Ruby nodded. "That's brilliant."

Wylan smiled, then looked at him. "Jesper," he said, "get us that helmet."

Jesper huffed a laugh, then lifted his finger and reached for the Force. It sung brightly on this moon - so many plants, so many animals, so much _life_ \- and it came to him easily. It was a simple task to bend it to his will and rustle a few branches and leaves near to the trooper patrolling on his own.

The trooper instantly froze, suspicious, and went to investigate. Jesper couldn't contain his smile.

"Wait," said Matthias. "Who's gonna wear the helmet?"

"I will," Wylan offered.

"Nah," Jesper cut in, tossing him a smirk, "you're too short to be a stormtrooper."

"Hey-!"

"And Matthias is too tall," Ruby mused. "Jesper should do it."

He whirled on her. "Wait, _what_ -"

"Then it's decided." Of course Wylan was grinning at that, the smug little- "Jesper will take out the trooper and infiltrate the base. He's got that fancy Core accent as well," he added. "He'll fit right in."

"Blast you both," Jesper said as he got up to go deal with the trooper, but he was smiling as he said it.

* * *

"Your Rebellion's a little late, isn't it?" Morozova mused. Nina fumed, mutinous. She was glad they weren't here yet, glad that Jesper and the others down on the moon had every last possible second to take out that generator, glad that if Inej was going to die in this battle, she still had a little while left to live.

But even those tumultuous thoughts weren't what occupied the bulk of her attention. Now, she was focused on probing the binders around her wrists with the Force, testing their weak points, until finally-

There was a loud _snap_ as they fell off her hands and she leapt away from Koroleva and Tamar.

"Congratulations," the Emperor drawled, sounding bored again. "You performed a simple feat with the Force we could _never_ have predicted you would."

She didn't listen. Instead of listening, she reached out her hand and summoned her lightsaber to her from where it lay on the arm of his throne. It landed squarely in her hand; she ignited it, its pink glow hurting her eyes in the dim light, and slashed through Tamar's binders. The general rubbed her wrists even as Nina turned her attention away from her, onto the only person she hated more than Morozova.

Koroleva.

Koroleva, whose crimson blade was already lit and coming up to parry hers. Koroleva, whose silver armour reflected the blending of red and pink light in sickly, twisted shapes.

Koroleva, who lifted her hand and sent Tamar flying into the wall at speeds that could kill her.

But they didn't, thank the Force; she cried out on impact and all the breath left her body in one _oomph_ when she crumpled to the floor, but Nina could still feel her erratic heartbeat through the Force. She was, surprisingly, mercifully, _miraculously_ , alive.

Koroleva draw back her hand, a non-existent wind played with the edges of the red cape, the same colour as the cloaks and armour of the Royal Guards. She said in a slow, merciless voice that the vocoder only enhance, "I'd prefer to only deal with one inconvenience at once."

 _Inconvenience?_ Nina slashed and stabbed, but she was blocked every time. Her heart beat wildly, and her strikes were even wilder; after a while, Koroleva just seemed to be batting aside her lightsaber with little to no effort at all.

And she was batting her _back_ as well, Nina realised. Back and back and back, closer and closer to-

She screamed.

She screamed as intense heat and pain hit her back and her nerves were on fire, her skin was on fire, _everything was on fire_ as her muscles writhed of their own accord and she collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face-

It stopped very suddenly, leaving her with only the scent of burning from the scorch marks on her fatigues.

Koroleva had pushed her closer to the Emperor. The Emperor, who was a known user of the Sith power Force Lightning.

She gagged on her voice before she whispered, "You-" It was all she could get out before she was overtaken by a fit of coughing, back still racked with spasms, legs trembling too much to hold her.

Her lightsaber twitched on the floor, then flew towards her. It whacked her in the head before the Emperor summoned it back to him.

"Young fool," he sighed, as if this was a common occurrence. Then he stuck his hand out and Tamar, who'd just managed to stagger to her feet, was yanked into midair by the throat.

He dropped her in front of the massive viewport. She landed in a crouch position, like a cat, and for a moment Nina thought she would complete the simile and hiss at the Emperor.

Morozova pretended he hadn't noticed. "Oh look," he said, as a single shape began to coalesce beyond the viewport. Then another, then another. . ."Here comes your fleet."

* * *

"Hey!" Ruby shouted, standing up from among the thick undergrowth. "Bucketheads!"

At least a dozen troopers snapped their heads round to look at her. "It's the Rebels!"

Several of them opened fire at once, even though she was out of range. And that was before the four Pathfinders in the sky got to work on them.

Wylan had learned a lot of things on this mission, but one in particular was that Pathfinders weren't just good at. . . well, finding paths. Another of the many skills in their repertoire was tree-climbing.

Especially tree-climbing when holding a blaster.

Especially tree-climbing, then using the tree they'd climbed as a spot from which to open fire on unsuspecting stormtroopers.

Chaos ensued. At first, the stormtroopers couldn't tell where the fire was coming from, and began firing blindly upwards, their aim even worse than the aim they were notorious for. One stormtrooper tried to alert the control centre: Wylan saw him activate the comlink, saw an officer's face appear on the screen, but the trooper was shot dead before he could get out much more than "Rebel. . . attack. . ."

Then the remaining eight Pathfinders on the ground, along with Ruby, Wylan and Matthias opened fire from the ground, taking cover _behind_ the trees, rather than in them.

The chaos intensified.

One trooper charged Wylan; he sidestepped their shots neatly and shot them in the side when they passed him by. Another two tried to box him in, but a well timed blast from the Pathfinder above his head had one of them staggering into the other, knocking them both over, making them easy targets.

Wylan saw Jesper ran into the melee then, his stormtrooper armour identical to the others', and got right to the door. From there, he shot two troopers in the back. Then another two. Then another two.

Soon enough, there was no stormtroopers left in the clearing.

Jesper waltzed up to the comlink and contacted the control room. "The Rebels have been routed, sir, and they're fleeing into the woods," he said, the helmet interfering with his voice. "We need reinforcements to continue the pursuit."

The officer grinned as he turned around to the others in the control room, vaguely visible in the image behind him. "You heard the man - send a squad out!" The connection was cut off, and the Rebels crouched just next to the door, ready to enter the moment it opened. Jesper sliced the comlink up for good measure.

It slid open. Stormtroopers poured out halfway into the glade before they stopped to look around, confused. The Rebels had already slipped in by that point.

Wylan turned to see Jesper pause in the doorway and give the Imperials a jaunty salute just as the door closed, then laugh at the sound of them banging on it to try to open it. Wylan guessed that several were jabbing the buttons on the comlink, trying to get it to work, _but Jesper had destroyed it_.

"You're insufferable," Wylan told him.

"I know." He held out a hand for an explosive; Wylan tossed him one. "Now let's go set those charges."

* * *

Inej was on her off-shift, in the back of the _Barrel_ playing dejarik when the call came. Kaz's rancor smashed into her wampa just as the onboard comms spat out static that resolved into Dirix's voice. _"Coming up on our destination. Inej get to the cockpit; gunners, get to your stations."_

She hit the power-off button on the dejarik table and the holographic animals disappeared. After a glance and a small smile at Kaz - his shoulders had gone suddenly tense, his lips pinched together - she headed into the cockpit and slid into the pilot's chair. She spared Dirix a tight smile as well; he returned a likewise tight one.

She wasn't tense, per se - at least, not the way Kaz was. She was more. . . jittery. It was natural to be nervous - _afraid_ \- before any space battle, let alone a major one like this, let _alone_ one she was leading. And all those natural nerves had been building inside her during the hours of the trip, all the pent up energy shuddering, and shuddering, until it manifested itself as the trembles in her hands as they darted over the controls, in her feet as she braced them against the floor.

"Thank you, by the way," Dirix said suddenly.

She glanced over at him, nerves fraying even further. She tried for a strained laugh, "What?"

"For what you did at Yavin," he said, looking down at the console and grasping the controls tightly. "I know it's commonly said that you're the only one who survived the battle - certainly, you're the only one who survived until the very end. But I was there. I survived it, and I wouldn't have without you."

She must have still looked confused, because he clarified in a quiet voice, "I was part of Red Squadron, before I joined Green Squadron. I was Red Seven."

"Your engines were damaged," she said slowly, the memories dawning on her. "I-"

"Ordered me to get back to base, yes." He looked up at her, then, then immediately back down. "I'm alive because of you. _And_ because you blew up the battle station - the battle station I failed to blow up myself."

"Well, I believe in second chances," Inej said jokingly, glancing at the monitor, "and here's your second chance. We can do this."

"You're right," he said, invigorated, "we can." Then he muttered, "As long as the shield's down."

"Hey," Inej said, catching his eye. "Don't worry; my friends are down there. They'll get that shield down on time."

He nodded, but his jaw was still clenched.

"Or this'll be the shortest offensive of all time," she said under her breath. "Dropping out of hyperspace now."

There was a rapid deceleration, a dramatic shift in the humming of the ship as the hyperspace engines powered down, and the streaks around them became stationary stars once more. The planet Endor loomed very suddenly in front of them, and the Death Star orbiting its moon.

Inej switched on the comms. "All wings, report in."

_"Red Leader, standing by."_

_"Grey Leader, standing by."_

_"Gold Leader, standing by."_

"Lock S-foils in attack positions."

They shot right for the waiting monstrosity, Inej trying to keep a hold on the contents of her stomach at the sight of it. Senator - no, _General_ Lantsov's voice echoed over the comms from where he was stationed on one of the cruisers. _"May the Force be with us."_

"Wait." Dirix was suddenly frantic, hands flying over the consoles. "Break off the attack. I can't get a reading on their shields."

"What?" That didn't make any sense. "We've got to be able to get a reading on that shield, up or down."

"Unless they're jamming us."

Inej's heart skipped a beat. "Jamming us? How could they be jamming us if they don't know-" Her throat went suddenly dry. "If they don't know we're coming?"

Their eyes met for a split second, then Inej was shouting into the comms. "Break off the attack, their shield's still up!"

 _"I get no reading,"_ Red Leader said. _"Are you sure?"_

"Pull up!" But they were going so fast, not all pilots would be able to react in time- "All craft, _pull up_!"

Inej yanked on the controls and the _Barrel_ reversed direction very suddenly, closing her eyes against the g-force generated. But she didn't close her eyes in time to miss seeing the starfighters that hadn't managed to pull up collide with seemingly empty space - and explode.

The light from the explosion briefly illuminated a pale blue shield.

The fleet was in panic. Even as she and Dirix spun and twisted the _Barrel_ away from the Death Star she could see the cruisers balking and turning every which way - right into the waiting Imperial Fleet behind them.

_"Enemy ships in sector three-seven!"_

"It's a trap," Inej breathed, then they flew into the oncoming swarm of TIEs.


	35. Episode XXXV

The comlink trilled. Wylan hurried to answer it.

It was one of the Pathfinders. _"The fleet just appeared in the sky,"_ the man said. _"They're here, and they're about to be destroyed."_

Wylan swore. "Jesper!" he shouted. "We're out of time!"

"I know!" He glanced around the room, full of ticking detonators. "I think that's all the charges set."

"Good." Ruby strode into the room, closely followed by Matthias. "We're finished here, too. Let's blow this thing, and go home."

"Can't disagree with you there," Wylan heard Jesper mutter. They strode out of the control room, locked the door behind them, and hurried to get outside of the base before the fuses wore through. They could still hear the ticking, though, and it got louder, and louder, and faster and faster, until-

_"Run."_

Run, run, keep running, round that corner, and there it was, there was the door-

Wylan leapt forward, putting in as much momentum as he could-

The blast continued his momentum, searing his back and slamming him through the open door, into the sunshine and head over heels on the grass. He landed with an  _oomph_ , winded but unharmed.

"Did it work?" he asked, dazed. "Is the shield down?"

"Shhh." Jesper held up his finger. "Listen."

After a moment, Wylan could hear what he was talking about: the soft whirring of the reactor.

Matthias swore. Jesper punched the ground. And Wylan. . . Wylan felt his chest cave in, felt his face crumple, felt himself begin to sob.

That had been it. That had been their last shot at succeeding in a mission vital to the Alliance, and. . .

They'd failed.

The Pathfinders were crouched over one spot on the ground, around one person.

One of them glanced up then. "Are any of you medics?"

Wylan shook his head dejectedly, and watched the others do the same. The Pathfinder sighed, shoulders trembling a little bit, then stood aside to show the reason he'd asked.

The Pathfinder who'd been inside with them, with the sunburst on her face - Ruby, Wylan remembered - lay on the ground on her side. A piece of shrapnel had permeated her back; it went right through, protruding from her stomach.

She was dying.

She tried to whisper something, but she was too weak. A Pathfinder knelt down next to her to grasp her hand. Ruby curled round herself round it.

"What is it?" they asked, impossibly softly.

"I said," she panted, "at least. . . I'll get to see. . . the General again."

Jesper open flinched at that, but Wylan's attention was fixed on Ruby, whose hand suddenly went limp, her body still.

The Pathfinder next to her look up, tears in their eyes.

The silence that fell was the worst thing Wylan had ever heard.

"Alright," Matthias said. "We've lost all our explosives. We blew up one wing of this facility, but the reactor remains unharmed. What people have we still got - who survived?"

Wylan did a quick head count. Three Pathfinders were missing, and Ruby was. . .

Well.

"Right," Matthias said again, though Wylan could hear the strain in his voice. "We have eight Pathfinders, a sort-of-Jedi, and two former Imperials. What weapons do we have? Blasters?"

Wylan and a bunch of the Pathfinders waved theirs in the air.

"I have my-" Jesper reached for his waist and cursed. "I _had_ my lightsaber." There was an edge to his voice - Wylan was next to him in a heartbeat, hand resting on his shoulder. "It must've - got caught in the blast or something, I-"

"Right." Matthias tried to move on, but he was at breaking point as well. His words petered out, until there was nothing but silence. They all knew it was hopeless.

Wylan looked at Matthias, who gazed back at him mournfully. He couldn't believe he was going to fail. Not like _this._

He looked at Jesper, whom he'd considered kissing less than an hour ago. That hour felt like an age; he couldn't bear the thought of doing anything so happy now.

Then he looked up at the sky. At the Death Star, where they'd no doubt taken Nina and Tamar, but also beyond that, to the twinkling shapes beyond the atmosphere that he knew were capital ships hell-bent on blasting each other into ashes and stardust.

Inej and Kaz were up there, fighting for their lives. Inej, who'd pulled him into the main bulk of the Rebellion when he thought he would hover on the outskirts forever; Kaz, who despite his (many, many, _many_ ) flaws had never failed to come through for them all when they needed him.

And not just them. All the other friends he'd made in the Rebellion, all of his brothers and sisters, united in their decision to look tyranny in the eye and say _no more_ , unafraid of the answer they would receive.

At least, at first. Because they just received it, and Wylan was very much afraid.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the silence of the glade. He wasn't ashamed of the tears that rolled down his face. _I am angry because I care. I am sad because I care._

 _There is nothing wrong -_ everything right _\- with caring._

He sobbed again, and was dimly aware of Jesper wrapping his arms around his shoulders, then of Matthias following suit. Then the Pathfinders caved in and sought that carnal, physical reassurance as well, and Wylan knew it would all end with the knowledge that even in defeat, he was not alone.

Not anymore.

"Thank you," he choked out. "All of you. And-" _I'm so, so sorry,_ was what he was going to say, but something stopped him from saying it.

Matthias's arm was around his shoulder, his left hand close to his face. The only thing in Wylan's field of vision was Matthias's wrist-mounted comlink, the sound emitter directly next to his ear.

And it was beeping.

* * *

Nina's back still ached, still ached _awfully_ , but she pulled herself up the stairs to collapse next to Tamar and squeeze her hand, give her the tiniest bit of support she could offer.

It only seemed to excite the Emperor more - although that might have been the appearance of Rebel battleships beyond the viewport.

"Now, behold," he said softly, "as the mighty Rebellion falls."

"My friends will get that shield down," Nina said spitefully, glowering up at him. "And then they'll destroy this ship, with you on it. The only thing you've won is time."

"Time is all I need." The Emperor sounded no less sure of himself than he had before. "Especially when I have this."

Nina and Tamar shared a look of confusion.

"You still don't understand?" Morozova leaned back. "Well then, allow me to demonstrate. Consider yourselves fortunate to be witnesses to the power of this _fully operational battle station_."

 _No._ She looked at Tamar; Tamar looked back.

No. No, no,  _no-_

The Emperor was speaking into a comlink. "You may fire at will, Commander."

A part of Nina didn't believe it. _Couldn't_ believe it. Certainly, the Emperor may have fed them the information they'd received, but so far it had been _accurate_. And the information had said quite clearly that the battle station wasn't operational.

But if it wasn't operational, then there was no way it would all vibrate at once as the reactors were powered up. Nor was there any way that it could fire a massive green beam of light and hit the nearest Rebel cruiser, leaving only ashes behind to rain down on the Death Star's armoured surface.

But it _could_ do that.

And Nina was forced to watch as it did.

* * *

"Watch yourself, Rotty, three from above," Dirix snapped into the comms next to her as Inej looped round the fire of a particularly persistent TIE.

_"Acknowledged. Green Two, Green Three, form up. I'll take the leader."_

This was _chaos_.

There was nothing but violent streaks of colour and violent swearing as she yanked the controls this way and that, the _Barrel_ wobbling like its namesake. She hardly dared to blink, even as-

_"They're going for the medical frigate!"_

She swore again, then she and Dirix pulled them round to get Kaz a clear shot at the enemy ships. He didn't disappoint, the rapid rattle of the guns punctuating each hit until they went down. Not a single shot was wasted.

They flew through the cloud of fire and debris, past the medical frigate, and suddenly Inej had a clear view of Koroleva's flagship and the other Destroyers. They weren't participating in the battle, just hanging back, like they were setting up a blockade.

"Only the fighters are attacking," Inej said, frowning. "What are those Star Destroyers waiting for?"

They turned to run at the Death Star and ran another scan; the Empire had stopped jamming them the moment the battle commenced. The shield was still up.

They turned back to the Star Destroyer, even as a cruiser moved to engage it, the crimson plasma bolts spitting back and forth-

Only for there to be a flash of green as the cruiser exploded.

Inej blinked; Dirix took a shuddering gasp. "What the-"

They turned back so the Death Star was beyond the viewport, even as another beam shot out from it. This time, a Rebel starfighter flew right into it, _intentionally_ , so it didn't destroy it's intended target: the medical frigate.

"That blast came from the Death Star," she observed, voice becoming increasingly shrill with every word. "That thing's operational!" She jabbed the comms. "Home One, this is Green Leader."

It was General Lantsov who replied. _"All craft, prepare to retreat."_

"We won't get another chance like this, General."

_"We have no choice, General Ghafa. Our cruisers can't repel firepower of that magnitude."_

"Nina will have that shield down!" she insisted. "We've got to give her more time!"

 _"That's a sweet sentiment, Wraith, but Zenik isn't on the moon,"_ someone cut into their comms.

"What?" She jammed the comlink. "Who is this?"

_"General Ghafa? What's wrong?"_

"Whoever it is, they're hailing us individually," Dirix said, hands flying over the console. "Lantsov and the other ships can't hear them."

"Open a private comm channel with them, then," Inej ordered, then spoke into it when he did. "Who is this?"

_"Don't you recognise me, Wraith? Our acquaintance was short, but-"_

" _Dunyasha_ ," Inej hissed.

 _"Precisely."_ She sounded smug. _"I captured Zenik on the Sanctuary Moon. She's probably dead by my master's hand, by now. And now I'm going to kill you."_ Just before she clicked off the comms, she said, _"I want you to know who it was who did it, when you die."_

Then there was silence.

And among that silence, a feeling. More instinct that anything else, but nonetheless an instinct that had Inej shouting, "Reroute power to the rear deflector shields"

Dirix did it without question, and after a moment the ship rocked and bucked beneath them as they were battered by intense power behind. Dunyasha had struck.

If they hadn't reinforced the rear shields, they would have been killed.

Dirix's eyes were wide. "How did you-"

"I don't know." Inej just shook her head. "But we need to-"

 _"Impressive, Wraith."_ Dunyasha was back. _"But this battle's not won yet. I'm coming for you."_ The comm clicked off again.

Instantly, they could hear Lantsov hailing them. _"General Ghafa, Commander-"_

"We're here, General," Inej said.

_"What's wrong."_

"Nothing," she said, meeting Dirix's eyes and nodding slowly. "Minor comm malfunction. We _have_ to press the attack."

There was a silence, then Lantsov sighed. _"Agreed,"_ he said. _"We can't afford to retreat. Continue your assault."_

"Acknowledged, General," was all Inej could say before they were forced to swerve away from a particularly vicious TIE fighter. _That must be Dunyasha._ "If I may, I advise you to take on the blockade."

_"We won't last long against those Star Destroyers."_

"You'll last longer than you will against that Death Star." She flipped a few switches on the console. "I'll lead the fighter squadrons against the TIEs, and into the Death Star once the shield's down. But _you_ have to clear our path out of here, so we can jump the moment that thing's blown."

She felt odd, giving Senator Lantsov orders, but they were technically of the same rank now. She was authorised.

And he knew it too, judging by the smile in his voice. He put the slightest emphasis on her title as he said, _"Acknowledged,_ General _."_

Inej nodded, then switched off the comms, seeing Dunyasha turn to face them again. She came at them, relentless; Inej flipped them over, then over again, the g-force pressing down on her and Dirix, leaving them gasping for air.

For a moment, they saw three X-wings engage with three TIEs. Saw them bait them closer and closer to the shield, and saw how one of the TIEs drifted a little too close. It exploded on impact, shrapnel damaging the other two and leaving easy pickings for the X-wings.

Inej watched that, and then she turned her gaze towards the Death Star.

She glanced at Dirix. "I have an idea."

* * *

As upset as Nina was at the sight of the burning cruiser, Tamar was. . . distraught. She hadn't moved in at least a minute, staring at the spot on the ship that was the bridge, mouth agape in horror.

After a moment, Nina understood.

That cruiser had been her brother's ship.

Tolya was dead.

"Such is the fate of all Rebels," the Emperor said dismissively. Koroleva echoed the sentiment. Nina didn't think she had ever glared at someone harder. "And now you have the privilege of watching it happen."

"My Destroyers are in attack position," Koroleva said. "If they were to attack, it would be over that much quicker-"

"No." The Emperor's tone was final. "Hold the blockade; don't let the Rebels escape. Do not attack."

Nina said Koroleva's fists clench, saw her shoulders tense up. . . Then they sagged. "Yes, my master."

"You haven't won yet, _Chancellor_ ," Tamar spat. The Emperor scowled at the title. "As long as there are any of us alive, we will continue to resist and fight you. As long as there are good people in the galaxy, the Rebellion will survive."

The Emperor just rolled his eyes.

"Your arrogance is your weakness," Nina told him.

He rolled his eyes again. "Your faith in your friends is yours."

It was Koroleva who said. "Tamar. Your brother is dead. Your Rebellion is about to die. It's time to stop fighting."

Her tone was oddly placating, enough to give Nina a pause - did she really care about her estranged friend? - but Tamar just snarled. " _Never_."

Her hand went for her waist, but her blaster had already been confiscated. So she didn't bother with weapons - she just flat out lunged for the Emperor, arms outstretched like she was going to wring the life out of him with her bare hands-

She didn't get without a foot of him. Morozova just lifted his hand, and a short burst of Force Lightning blasted her backwards. She landed on the stairs and slid to the bottom - Nina was surprised she didn't break any bones.

The Emperor lowered his hand. "Pathetic."

Tamar screamed and charged him again, and for a moment of instinct as she did, Nina summoned her lightsaber to her and struck _down_ , down at the Emperor's neck, down in a strong slash that could carve his very head off-

Only for the blade to be met by Koroleva's. Nina stared at her. She could feel it again, the pool of fury just within her reach. She dipped her fingers in it, felt it rush through her, the strength that came with it. She could lift her hand and choke Koroleva to death, like Koroleva had choked so many people. . .

. . .and then, if she survived, her friends would never look at her the same way again. Inej would be afraid; Jesper wouldn't let her train him; Matthias would be as repulsed by her as he'd been when they first met, because now he'd overcome his distaste of the Jedi he'd gained a distaste for the opposite.

"Give in, Zenik," Koroleva mocked. "You can't deny your feelings."

"I will _never_ turn to the Dark Side," Nina hissed, pushing harder on their joined blades, watching them creep closer to the Emperor's neck. . .

"So be it," Koroleva said, then retracted her lightsaber and swung.

Nina jerked her arm back to avoid it, her grip loosening for a fraction of a second; Koroleva called the lightsaber to herself _again_ , and Nina was left defenceless _again_.

She turned to Tamar, writhing on the ground now from the Emperor's second round of the Lightning. Nina's still-aching back twinged in sympathy.

Then, the Emperor seemed to have had enough. He yanked Tamar up by the throat again, her feet kicking wildly and her face rapidly turning red.

"I _tire_ of this." The Emperor's voice was ringing. "Lady Koroleva, finish her."

It seemed to Nina that Koroleva was caught off guard, just for a moment. "What?"

"Kill her," was the irritated reply. "Before she causes any more trouble."

Koroleva looked at Tamar, hanging helpless in the air, but didn't move. Her lightsaber stayed unlit in her hand.

The Emperor sighed, thoroughly done with the proceedings. "Fine. I'll kill her myself."

He threw Tamar against the wall. She fell to the ground in a boneless heap.

Her spine's _snap_ was the worst thing Nina had ever heard.

Koroleva still didn't move.

"Agent Lazareva," Morozova said, speaking into his comlink. "Have you eliminated the Wraith, yet?"

Nina took a deep breath, waiting for the blow to fall-

There were sounds of blasts and cursing, then the stilted reply of, _"Not yet. . . my master. . ."_

There was a sound of disgust as the Emperor switched the comlink off. "A pity. That would have made this that much more painful. Koroleva?"

She looked up.

"You have disappointed me today," he said, eyes drifting to Tamar's corpse, "but you can redeem yourself. I _had_ hoped to wait until the Wraith was dead, but. . ."

He looked straight at Nina, then kicked her in the shins. Still weak from the assault with the Lightning, she collapsed onto the floor just above the stairs. The metal was cool against her cheek - she stared across it, to Tamar's cooling corpse a few metres away, before turning to look up at the Emperor and Koroleva.

"Since she won't embrace the Dark Side, she is of no further use to me."

Nina couldn't help it as she started shaking. The Emperor's next words fell like a bell tolling someone's death.

"Kill the Jedi." The Emperor smiled as he said it. "Kill her now."


	36. Episode XXXVI

Matthias turned the comlink on, and a holographic image of a stormtrooper came up, the helmet removed to reveal the face of a boy about the same age as Wylan, with limp hair and a pointed face.

"Who are you?" he demanded, detaching himself from the others' embrace. "How did you get this frequency? What do you want?"

" _My name's Mikhail,"_ he said in a quivering voice, his accent intrinsically familiar to Matthias. _Mandalorian. "And you're Matthias Helvar."_

"Yes," he said. "What do you want?"

Mikhail took a shuddering breath. " _Do you have the darksaber?"_

Frowning, Matthias unclipped it from his belt and lit it, confident that the boy would see it in the hologram.

He did. A tension that Matthias hadn't even noticed seeped from his shoulders.

_"I saw you on the holos,"_ he said quietly. _"All of us on Mandalore did. Did you hear about the uprising?"_

Matthias nodded, vaguely remembering Kaz mention it.

" _My brother was part of that,"_ Mikhail said. _"He told me that you represented everything a true Mandalorian should be. The Empire are cowards, and Brum along with them - this Death Star is just proof of it. You were right to reject Brum's message of might being preached as strength. It helped the rest of us see the difference._

_"I heard that Brum died in the uprising,"_ he continued softly. _"My brother was killed as well. And my parents, most of my clan, for association. I was still young, so I was sent here to serve as a stormtrooper as penance."_

Matthias didn't know what to say to that, so he just repeated one of his earlier questions. "How did you get this frequency?"

_"I found a dead Rebel with it built into her comlink."_ He smiled sadly. _"I don't know why I'm sending you this, but I guess I wanted. . ."_ He took a breath. _"When you go back to Mandalore, please, spread the word about this Death Star, and the cowardice it represents. Killing millions of people -_ civilians _\- at once, instead of facing them honourably in combat." He scoffed briefly, then his face became pensive again. "Finish what you've started with all those propaganda reels, and make it clear what a true Mandalorian is."_

He took another deep breath, then continued. _"I know you failed to destroy the generator - that destroying the control room didn't do anything, and now the path to the reactor is blocked. But I'm in here, in the reactor. I can destroy it, and then your fleet can wipe this monstrosity from the galaxy."_

"But you'll die."

Mikhail almost smiled at that. _"I know."_ He took a deep breath. _"But that is the Mandalorian way."_

"Blasters won't damage the reactors," Matthias warned. "You'll need some other sort of weapon."

_"Your Jedi dropped his lightsaber. Will that do?"_

Jesper jerked his head up. "Wait _what_?"

_"It's ironic, really. The Jedi and Mandalorians fought so many wars, and now, at the end, we work together."_

He took another deep breath. _"But I'm wasting time - time your fleet doesn't have. I don't know why I commed, I guess. . . I just wanted to tell you. . . Keep doing what you're doing. Free Mandalore."_

Mikhail clicked off the comm, but not before he ignited the lightsaber, and the humming of the blade sounded like crickets heralding the new dawn.

There was silence in the glade again, but it was a different silence to the one from before.

"Do you think it'll work?" Wylan asked tentatively.

Matthias shook his head. "Let's not hang around long enough to find out. When that thing explodes. . ."

Jesper nodded. "Let's get to the speeder bikes."

The bikes weren't too far off, so in a few moments they were zipping away from the generator, and this couldn't be safe because they'd had to cram three people on each bike and they _definitely_ weren't going at the top speeds they could, but it didn't matter because they were going fast enough.

Fast enough that when they heard the _boom_ of the reactors overloading, the energy released scorched everything in a several mile radius, they weren't close enough to be hurt.

* * *

"I," Zenik spat, "am no Jedi."

They were the same words she'd said on Hoth, weeks and weeks ago, Koroleva noted. That entire confrontation was burned into her brain, from the Jedi's unexpected declaration, to the scream she'd given when her padawan had died, to the hot humiliation of being ordered to retreat.

Had it really been only a year or so since Eadu? she wondered. On the one hand, that confrontation seemed so long ago, but on the other hand, so many events she'd had to deal with recently were tied to this not-a-Jedi and her Rebel friends that there was no way Eadu could be so different.

Morozova seemed unimpressed by Zenik's declaration, though he did smile slightly. Koroleva wondered if he was considering what his mother would say if she heard Zenik renouncing the Order like that. Grandmaster Baghra would lose her shit for sure.

But the amusement was fleeting, and within a moment he was looking at Koroleva again. "Kill her."

Zenik had dragged herself onto her knees now. She looked up at both of them, somehow trying to meet Koroleva's eyes through the helmet, even if she couldn't see the eyes she was looking into.

Her position imitated memories that were. . . bitter. Unending, unfathomable grief. A loss, an unending feeling of being completely and utterly _alone_. The subsequent desperate decision that arose from that. The pose was eerily similar.

Herself, kneeling in front of Morozova and swearing to follow his teachings.

Zenik, kneeling before Morozova and preparing to meet her end.

Both times it had led to a sort of death for the person kneeling. Zenik's head would roll, here and now, and she would never see her friend, the Wraith, again, or fully train that pirate to use the Force, while Starkiller had chosen to become who she was today, leading to not only the death of most of the Jedi, but her personality, and the Republic itself.

"Stop being so dramatic, Alina," the Emperor said now, faintly irritated. The use of her name was probably meant to shake her, undermine her, but she felt nothing. Alina Starkiller was dead - nearly every trace of her had been swept from the galaxy. "You can savour the moment later. Just kill her."

Zenik lifted her chin tears running down her face. Her jaw was set and proud.

Koroleva didn't turn her head, but her eyes flicked to Tamar's corpse.

_This_ was all that remained of Alina Starkiller's legacy. Zoya was dead, Tamar was dead, Tolya was dead. Nikolai was in the battle that suddenly seemed very distant, its shots and explosions illuminating the viewport behind the Emperor in flashes, and would soon perish as well. All that remained was to kill this ex-Jedi, her master's second padawan, and then Alina Starkiller's legacy would be dead, and the last dregs of her personality gone from Koroleva forever.

She lit her lightsaber, Zenik unable to suppress a flinch at the sudden _snap-hiss_ of the blade, but she didn't move to strike her down.

Why was she hesitating? She'd been working towards the death of Alina Starkiller for eighteen years; now it was within her grasp, she should be jumping at the chance.

But all she was aware of was the limp corpse of her friend, and the fact that Alina Starkiller's legacy was Tamar's legacy as well.

She had terrorised the galaxy for nearly two decades as Koroleva. She would be the first to admit that. Why? Why had she done it? What had been wrong with the galaxy before that it had needed such radical restructuring?

_War_ , she told herself. _The Republic failed. They couldn't prevent war. The Empire could._

Except it hadn't. . .

Tamar had argued with her until the end.

She got the urge to shake her head.

Tamar was always the voice of reason in the Soldat Sol. She had to wonder: if her friend had been on Coruscant in the last days of the Republic, when Mal had died, when she'd made that fateful pledge, would the outcome have been different? Would her friend have talked her out of it?

She'd never know. Instead, she'd made her choice, and the state of the galaxy had become ten times worse, for her own personal gain.

Except. . . had she really gained? What did she have now that she hadn't had before? What had she sacrificed friendships and morals and an _entire kriffing government_ for?

_You are no longer entitled to your previous autonomy, your previous power; now, you are an extension of my will._ _A cog in the machine of the Empire._

It sure as _hell_ wasn't freedom.

_A cog in the machine of the Empire._

That was all she was. All she'd been _reduced_ to. She'd been a cog in the machine of the Republic before, their poster Jedi for war propaganda, their Chosen One, their spy, their warrior, their servant, but she been. . .

Not happy, necessarily, but happier than she was now.

She'd had her battalion.

She'd had her friends.

She'd had Mal - at least, the knowledge that he was alive somewhere, out of her reach.

Now she just had the Emperor, who treated her as inferior.

And this young woman, this ex-Jedi who'd left the Jedi behind not out of anger, but out of a deep understanding of what they'd done wrong. . . She was everything Starkiller could've been. _Should've_ been. Because she'd had the same bigoted teacher, the same traumatic childhood, but she'd still chosen to fight for a regime that didn't enslave people who dared to disagree with it.

The Empire was wrong. Koroleva had known that for a while now; her excuse that she was maintaining order barely held up under her own scrutiny, let alone others'.

"You are nothing," she said softly, not even knowing if she was talking to Zenik or to herself. "You never amounted to anything you should have amounted to, and now you're lost in the dark. You failed your friends. You failed your master." The words tasted like poison on her lips. "Zoya would be ashamed."

Tears fell thicker and faster down Zenik's cheeks, and Koroleva sensed that the words cut deep. That they were, perhaps, the words Zenik - _Nina_ \- told herself at night.

Behind her, the Emperor laughed, too arrogant to sense his apprentice's confliction, too proud to consider that everyone he'd worked to build could be torn away in a heartbeat. Koroleva knew that it could. Nina did too. Otherwise she wouldn't be fighting.

The Emperor, however, didn't.

He was smart, but, as Nina had said, his arrogance was his weakness. Despite all his pokes and jabs about Starkiller and the past, he truly believed Starkiller was dead. That Starkiller was dead and gone, and now only Koroleva remained.

She thought of one of the things Nikolai had said to her after Mal died. _No one is ever truly gone._

Koroleva reached up with one hand to pull off her helmet. She threw it off to the side, its clanking against the floor loud in the silence. Zenik's eyes widened as she took in the face of Alina Starkiller, the shorn white hair - and as she took in what the Emperor, sitting behind her as he was, could not.

Her eyes were brown.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" she continued, the speech somehow more menacing now that it came from an actual person's voice instead of a vocoder. She tightened her grip on her lightsaber, its humming a soothing, familiar sound to her ears. "This is what the Dark Side taught me. Find my enemy's weakness. Exploit it. And today. . ." She turned so she was facing the Emperor. So he could see her in her full glory, her eyes not containing so much as a speck of gold. "I'm yours."

Then she dropped the lightsaber.

In its place, she reached for Nina's satchel, still sitting innocuously next to the Emperor's throne from where Dunyasha had brought it in. More specifically, she reached for the two crystals she felt singing inside it as two Shoto lightsabers flew out, fitting into the contours of her hands perfectly. _Hello, old friends._

Then she lit them, two bright, brilliant blades, and swung.

The shock transformed his face - his mouth sagged open, his yellow eyes going wide - but it didn't slow down his reaction. He brought up his hands and unleashed the full force of his lightning on her, the cortosis in her armour directing some of the energy away but enough of it skimming through her blood and bones, to her heart, which jerked in unnatural palpitations. Her sensory neurones burned with it but she bore through, and kept swinging.

There was a sickening _thud_ as Morozova's head hit the ground, then a clang as she dropped her lightsabers with it.

Her heart still beat irregularly. That lightning had overpowered her organs; they'd shut down soon. She would die.

But Nina would live.

The Rebellion, and the rest of her friends' legacy, would live.

So she turned to meet Nina's eyes without shame. The woman had scrambled to her feet and was watching her carefully, green eyes narrowed, but Alina didn't have time for her suspicions. What was done was done, and she was going to die anyway.

Her gaze was still locked with hers when she found she couldn't stand under the weight of it all, and crashed to the ground.


	37. Episode XXXVII

_"Blast!"_ Kaz cursed over the comms.

"What's wrong?" Inej asked.

_"Nothing,"_ he said. _"Just hit my cannon; it's alright, it's still operational."_ A pause. _"I just really hurt my thumbs. . ."_

Inej forced a laugh, then paused. "Kaz, stop firing. Let Dunyasha think she disabled your cannon."

_"Why? How in the_ world _would this help your plan?"_

"Just trust me! Other gunners, keep firing."

Dirix bit his lip. "You know, this plan of yours is pretty reliant on getting through that shield."

"Well, it's a good thing my friends will get it down then, isn't it?"

"I'm not doubting _them_ ," he said, gritting his teeth as they swerved to avoid another TIE. "I'm doubting our ability to stay alive until they do it!"

Inej glanced at the readouts again, and felt her face be split in half by the Force of her grin. "Well then, it's our lucky day."

"The shield's down?" He sounded like he could hardly bear to hope for it.

She smiled as they manoeuvred round to they got a clear view of the moon. Amidst all the greenery, there was a ring of fire and smoke on the ground. "The shield's down." Raising her voice, she shouted. "Green Squadron, form up!"

_"Here we go."_

The Death Star loomed larger and larger as they sped towards it, Green Squadron's array of X-wings and A-wings and Y-wings making for a hodgepodge attack force. For a moment as they neared where the shield had been, Inej tensed up - _please be down please be down_ \- but her worry was in vain. They sailed through the space where it had been without so much as a bump.

There was a split second of relief before Dunyasha realised the danger her master's battle station was in and opened fire again. Inej gritted her teeth as the ship rocked underneath her, but she had to keep going. The rest of Green Squadron had already soared into the innards of the Death Star, bright explosions barely visible through its mass of struts and plating, and Inej had to follow. She glanced sideways at Dirix.

He answered her question before she voiced it. "Shield integrity at fifty percent."

She nodded, teeth grinding together further.

There was another smattering of fire from behind, and another of their gunners - Specht, Inej believed his name was - swore. _"My cannon's disabled!"_

"Keep it that way," Inej ordered without thinking about it. "Don't try to repair it."

_"But-"_

"Our shields can't take much more of this," Dirix warned her. "We need to fire back."

"No," she insisted. "We can do this."

But the fault in her words became clear when Dunyasha fired _again_. Inej swerved to avoid it, and indeed, most of the shots flew past them to collide with the Death Star's armoured hull, but enough found their mark that the cockpit shuddered again under the force of it.

"Shields at thirty five percent."

Inej just kept flying, and Dunyasha kept firing. She dodged it again - that is, _tried to_ dodge it again. There was another swear word from their last gunner over the comms.

"Thirty percent." Dirix glanced at her. "Inej, we can't hold up under this much longer. We just lost our last gunner."

The Death Star was getting closer. Another thirty seconds and they'd be inside it.

_"Yes, Wraith."_ Dunyasha's voice hailed them on the comms again. _"Give it up. You have no gunners, no hopes of destroying this battle station, and no hopes of stopping_ me _. If you surrender right now, my master might grant you clemency. I'm sure he'd have use for your skills."_

"Oh, just shut up."

They flew into the Death Star.

Within a moment, Inej had to yank them left, right, up, then down again. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to which struts had been laid out where; there were areas with thick lattices then areas with nothing in them at all, but there always seemed to be some large grate she had to duck through, some hair-raising gap she had to scrape past.

Dunyasha followed them with almost embarrassing ease, her smaller and agile TIE fighter taking to the small spaces much more easily than the _Barrel_.

_She has agility and the Force_ , Inej thought, _but I have speed._

_And skill._

She kept going.

Dirix swore as she flew round a particularly sharp bend. "Are you insane?"

She ignored the question. "We need to get to the main reactor. If we blow that thing, the whole station explodes."

"With us inside it?"

Inej didn't answer that.

Instead, she jabbed the comms. "Green Squadron, report in. Have you destabilised the reactor yet?" She didn't expect they had - they would've heard the explosion, if it were true, despite how far away from the centre they were - but if it gave them a chance to evacuate instead of carrying out her plan. . .

_"Negative, General,"_ came the reply. _"We're coming in for another round now."_

"Then halt your assault." At the outraged cries, she snapped, "Get out of this structure. Join the battle outside. If you don't hear from me in one standard hour, then repeat the attack and come round for a second run, but until them, _get out of this battle station._ Is that clear?"

There was a pregnant pause.

Then- _"Copy that, Green Leader."_

Dirix just looked tired of her madness by now. "What are you _doing_?"

"Saving lives." She swerved round a particularly large strut; it took the fire Dunyasha had sent at her, groaning under the heat and pressure. "And ending quite a few."

_"Call it_ off _, Wraith."_ Dunyasha sounded just as exhausted as Dirix, but _her_ exhaustion just angered her further. _"You can't win this._ You have no gunners _. Give it up."_

Inej checked the targeting computer. They were coming up on the reactor shaft now.

She soared right into it.

It was less of a shaft, and more of a matrix. Several channels from elsewhere in the station led here - Inej hoped Green Squadron had escaped down some of those. But right there, suspended in empty space, were the reactor shafts. Bright, fiery, brilliant: they certainly _looked_ like they could pack a punch big enough to destroy the station if they were to destabilise.

Kaz's voice sounded over the comms. _"Tell me when to fire."_

"Not now," Inej said, ignoring Dirix's scandalised look. "And target Dunyasha, not the reactors."

_". . .what."_

It was Specht who said it, not Kaz; Kaz didn't question it. Inej wondered if he understood what she was trying to do, or if he just trusted her.

_"What are you going to do, Wraith?"_ Dunyasha taunted her again. _"Fly right into the reactor yourself?"_

"No," Inej said. " _You_ are."

Dunyasha just laughed. Good. Good that she didn't suspect anything.

Inej altered their course slightly.

"We're going to fly right past the reactor," Dirix observed.

"Yes we are." She switched on the comms and hailed Dunyasha. "Do you know the secret to fighting the acklay, Emperor's Hand?"

Dunyasha laughed again. Good. Good, good, good. She was so arrogant - everyone in the Empire was so _arrogant_ \- and it would be her downfall. _"Don't play with me, Wraith."_

"The secret," Inej finished, grunting as she yanked the _Barrel_ to a standstill, "is to pay attention to all of its legs."

She watched Dunyasha's ship on the display as it flew closer and closer to them. Closer, closer, until she was in line with the main reactor, then-

"Kaz, _now_!"

Kaz didn't hesitate. He opened fire on the TIE fighter.

One of its wings was torn off under the assault, sending it careening back, spinning wildly, back, back, back-

Until it collided with the reactor.

" _Fly_ ," Inej told Dirix, and they shot out of there.

Not a moment too soon: the reactor swallowed Dunyasha whole, and the energy from Kaz's shot as well as the energy contained in her weapons array dissipated into the it.

The reactor destabilised.

All Inej was aware of at first was the ship underneath her, every last ounce of speed she could squeeze out of it. She didn't bother with any fancy flying on the way out: Kaz just fired, again and again, at the struts in their way, and they soared through the smoking wreckage.

But then she was aware of the dull roar that trembled through the structure, through the debris surrounding them, and then there was light. So much light, and she couldn't _see anything_ ; she just had to tell Kaz to keep firing blindly lest they collide with anything as they flew.

Then there was heat.

"Shields are gone," Dirix said, but she didn't _care_ about that. She already knew from the way the _Barrel_ was acting up beneath her that something was wrong, some circuits had been fried, but so long as they kept flying in a straight line she didn't care. She could fix it, or buy Kaz a new ship - but she could only do that if they both made it out alive.

They cleared the Death Star with only a few seconds to spare. During those few seconds there was nothing but silence, and blackness, and a awful, awful suspense, then-

The Death Star exploded behind them.

She turned the ship so they could watch it blow, like a firework on Empire Day. Except this wasn't an Imperial victory, this was a Rebel victory - a _Republic_ victory - and for the first time something like true hope blossomed in her chest.

The Emperor had been aboard the Death Star.

They'd cut off the head of the snake.

She became dimly aware of cheers over the comms, of Green Squadron's wide array of fighters soaring into view beyond the viewport to escort them back to Home One. She only shook herself out of her disbelieving stupid when someone said in her ear, "Inej, you did it."

There was a hand on her shoulder. She grasped the hand for a moment, using it as an anchor, then she stood up to face its owner.

Kaz stared down at her. "You did it."

She shook her head. " _We_ did it."

He sighed. " _We_ did it, then," he said, but that was all he managed to get out before she kissed him.

He sucked in a surprise breath, but kissed her back, even as her squadron whooped and cheered, and the fiery debris of the Death Star rained down on the moon below.

* * *

Koroleva - Alina Starkiller? - was _heavy_. Nina took a deep breath, muscles in her back still spasming from the Force Lightning, and studied the (ex-)Sith Lord's limp form. Starkiller had just. . . fainted. . . after killing the Emperor, and Nina genuinely didn't know what to do.

She couldn't just. . . leave her there. Could she?

No. She couldn't. It wasn't the Jedi way, and it wasn't Nina's way either.

But that left her with a different problem.

She pulled at Starkiller's arms again, but to no avail. Then she eyed the helmet the woman had thrown away earlier, the silver armour she wore, then Starkiller's uncovered face, slack in unconsciousness.

Nina smacked it.

There was no reaction other than a faint stirring, Starkiller's breathing speeding up slightly.

Nina smacked her again.

This time, Starkiller's eyes flew open, the pupils dilating inside the brown irises and focusing on Nina's face. "What. . ."

"How do you take off your armour?" Nina asked without preamble. A moment passed, then she asked anxiously, "And you are wearing stuff underneath it, right?"

Starkiller blinked slowly. "Yes," she said, just as slowly, her voice thin and reedy. "But. . . why are you-"

"Maybe," Nina grunted, finally finding a catch on the underside of her gauntlet and tugging it open, "despite everything you've done, I don't want you to die."

"Why?" There was something brittle in the way she said it, like Nina was denying her of something she wanted and she wasn't happy about it. "I'm. . . dying. Why would. . . _you_ want to. . . try to. . . stop it?"

"Well," Nina said, throwing one gauntlet and moving on to the other, "you have to apologise to General Lantsov, for one thing."

Starkiller winced at that. "He's. . . going to be. . . insufferable."

Nina had to laugh at that. "Well, judging by the damage that lightning did to your systems, you won't have to suffer it for very long." She flung aside the second gauntlet. "Can you stand?"

A wry smile twisted Starkiller's face. "I have to. . . don't I?" She braced herself against the stairs, then pushed herself off. Nina imagined she could hear the damaged muscles and bones creaking in protest as she teetered there for a moment, but she remained upright.

Nina offered her shoulder as a brace anyway, and Starkiller gratefully sank into it as they began the trek out of the throne room.

"How come you got so damaged by the Force Lightning, anyway?" Nina asked as the elevator doors slid shut behind them. "It hurts, but I can still stand."

Starkiller laughed, but it came out as more of a wheeze. "He wasn't. . . trying. . . to kill you. . . yet," she got out. "Was trying. . . to kill. . . me."

"How lovely," Nina remarked, as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the hangar the _lambda_ shuttle they'd taken earlier had landed in.

She and Starkiller staggered up the landing ramp, the panicking Imperial officers in the hangar barely giving them a second glance. The alarm was blaring - apparently the main reactor had been destabilised - and everyone was doing their utmost to get away before the whole station blew.

So the only resistance was the mad rush of people trying to leave the hangar bay as Nina settled into the cockpit, Starkiller dumped into the seat behind her, and lifted off.

_Inej was right_ , she mused, a conversation from so long ago, before all of this started, coming to mind. _These things_ are _difficult to fly without a co-pilot_.

They soared out of the Death Star and beyond it. On the display, Nina saw a Rebels pilot lock onto them and prepare to fire, but she jabbed the comms.

"Rebel fighter, abort your run, repeat, _abort_." She took a breath, glancing at the display, where the little red blip kept getting closer. "Friendly aboard, repeat, _friendly_."

The reply came swiftly. _"Friendly, Green Four, identify yourself."_

She breathed a sigh of relief. She knew Green Four. "Rotty, this is Lieutenant Nina Zenik."

_"Nina?"_ came the surprised reply. _"Thought you were supposed to be on the moon."_

"Yeah, well, there was a change of plan." Nina threw a glance at the ex-Sith Lord sitting behind her, then back at the display. "And I need to make a run for the moon right now. Think you can cover me?"

_"'Course, Lieutenant,"_ Rotty said, no doubt seeing what she did: the contingency of TIE fighters shooting to intercept them. _"I'll even contact Green Leader to tell her you're alive and well whilst I'm at it."_

Nina grinned at that. Inej was alive, and soon she'd be able to stop worrying that Nina was alive as well. "Thanks a million, Rotty. Heading for the Sanctuary Moon now."

The comms clicked off, and Nina enjoyed a blasterfire-free environment to fly through for the next few minutes.

". . .Nina?"

She glanced back at Starkiller, and did a double take at how bad she looked. Her skin was dead white; dark bruises ringed her eyes; her jaw and hands trembled. "What?"

"I. . . I'm not going to survive. . . until the moon," Starkiller said, that wry smile still on her lips. "Could you. . . contact. . . Nikolai?"

Nina nodded. "Of course." She clicked on the comms, and pulled up the holographic function while she was at it. Lantsov deserved to see his friend's face before she died. "Home One?"

_"We read you, unidentified shuttle,"_ Lantsov replied, a blue hologram about as tall as Nina's forearm was long being projected above the console and squinting at her image. _"Who is this?"_

"Lieutenant Nina Zenik," she said. "And-

"Alina Starkiller."

The woman dragged herself forward as she said it to sit in the co-pilot's seat. Lantsov's hologram turned to look at her.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The eloquent senator had run out of words to say.

_"Alina,"_ he said finally, his voice heavy with dread as he took in her haggard appearance, the rings around her eyes. _"You-"_

"I know," Starkiller said, "that no apology. . . can ever. . . make up for. . . it. But. . . I'm sorry."

Lantsov still didn't say anything - for a moment, at least. Then- _"Tamar?"_

Starkiller shook her head, a tear escaping her eye and leaking down her face. "Dead."

_"I see."_

Silence fell again. Nina tried not to pay attention to it. They were coming up on the moon's atmosphere now; she needed to remain vigilant.

Starkiller tried to force an awkward smile. "What?" she asked weakly. "No jokes from. . . the famous. . . Nikolai Lantsov?" She coughed. "When. . . did all your laughter. . . leave you?"

Lantsov's face was grim. _"The same time your goodness left you."_

Starkiller just nodded, and silence fell again.

Nina was sick of it.

And so, apparently, was Lantsov.

_"Why did you contact me, Alina?"_ he asked. _"What did you hope to achieve by this? What,"_ he choked on his words, _"do you want me to do?"_

"I'm. . . going to die, Nikolai," Starkiller said, her words coming slower and quieter. Nina had to strain to hear her. "And. . . I wanted. . . to talk. . . to you. . . before. . . I did. After all," she added, her wry smile gracing her lips one last time, her tapping hands going still in her lap. "You're the. . . epitome. . . of. . . trustworthiness." She leaned her head to the side, too weak to support it. Her breathing was erratic; Nina could feel her life fading through the Force. She wouldn't last another minute.

_"And you're a Sith Lord,"_ Lantsov finished, his stern voice suddenly softer, his face suddenly mournful.

"Not anymore," Alina said, and she said nothing else.

It was a moment before Nina had the guts to glance over at her body. Her pale face was turned towards the viewport, like she was staring at the stars, even now.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Lantsov, then the connection clicked off before Nina could do anything.

She held the feeling of Starkiller's death at bay as she landed the shuttle on one of Endor's landing pads, and sat there for a moment, staring at the greenery.

Starkiller was dead.

Idly, she stretched out with the Force. She didn't know what she was looking for - something, _anything_ \- but other than the fleeting sense of Zoya and Alina's presences that she was half-sure she was imagining, she felt nothing.

Nothing, that is, except the life forces of her friends amongst the trees before her. Nothing except Inej and Kaz in the shuttles that descended to the ground from above her.

Nina smiled.

Tamar was dead. Morozova was dead. Koroleva was dead. Starkiller was dead.

But her friends were alive.

And for now, that was all Nina could possibly want from the world.


	38. Episode XXXVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter of this fic. I'd just like to thank everyone who read and commented; it always made my day, and I'm glad you enjoyed it so much. 
> 
> This is the longest fic I've ever written, and was the test trial for a new method of writing, and considering it's been resoundingly successful I'm going to continue using it. I'm as surprised as anyone I managed to crank out 120,000 words in eight months, posting it all in ten months, so thank you all for coming on this journey with me. You're all amazing, and I hope you like the last chapter!

Jesper looked up when he sensed Nina join the celebration, and made his way through the crowd towards her.

She seemed to sense his mood before she even saw his face - though, that might be because she seemed to be in such a grave mood herself. But she didn't smile as she met his eye, then glanced at his side. "You've lost your lightsaber."

"Yes." He swallowed. He couldn't pretend to be alright with that - that lightsaber had had his mother's kyber crystal inside it, and he couldn't help but feel like he'd just lost her all over again. "The boy who sacrificed himself to destroy the generator used it on the reactors."

She studied his face. "You have something to say."

She sounded tired, and for a moment Jesper felt guilty for pushing this on her _now_. _Now_ , which should be a happy day. But. . . "I know we said I could get my own kyber crystal once the war was over. But I won't."

Nina waited for him to finish.

"I don't want to be trained as a Jedi anymore."

Nina had no outward reaction: she just tilted her head, waiting for him to explain himself.

"I'm grateful for the skills you've given me," he told her, "and I'm grateful that you helped me learn to not despise this power, to instead use it as a tool to help the people I love. Like when we were rescuing Kaz - I wouldn't have lasted as long as I did in that throne room if I didn't have the Force as my ally." He took a deep breath. "But I am not cut out to be a Jedi. Or whatever new order you plan on building."

"You have too much of your mother in you."

He smiled wryly at how accurately she'd hit the nail on the head. "Yes. I don't know why she left the Jedi. I can't know. I'd rather see the world, do my own research on the Force, before I decide whether or not to pledge myself to an order that I believe is inherently flawed." He sighed. "I will still help you build your new order - Force, _of course_ I will - if you need me. But I don't want to be a part of it until I've worked things out on my own."

"You want to see the galaxy."

"I want to travel. And, actually - I want to do exactly what I said. I want to visit old places strong with the Force, old Jedi and Sith temples. I want to _learn_. The galaxy is at our feet, now," he said, "and I want to experience it to the full."

Nina smiled at that. "I know you, Jesper. I think this is exactly what you need. Although. . ." Her smile turned sly. "Will Wylan be joining you?"

"I was planning on it, yeah," Wylan said from behind Jesper. Jesper jumped a little, then relaxed as Wylan slipped an arm round his shoulders. "I'll keep helping the Rebellion, and the New Republic we're going to build, but then I want to see the universe."

Jesper felt his heart stop as he looked down into Wylan's earnest eyes. Their relationship had changed so much in the past months, and it would change so much more in the future. He realised, abruptly, that he'd never kissed him before.

But he wanted to.

So he did.

And Nina walked away as Wylan kissed him back, and as the celebratory fireworks exploded over Endor, Jesper's future had never looked brighter.

* * *

The celebration was in full swing by the time Inej and Kaz got permission to dock with one of the cruisers and catch one of the shuttles down to the moon below. Everyone's eyes looked red and puffy, like they'd been crying - a lot of good soldiers had been lost when they took down the shield generator - but few could stop smiling for long.

Nina was the first to notice them. "Inej!"

She couldn't - nor did she want to - stop the grin that cracked her face at the sight of her friend, alive and awake, even if she limped slightly, bruises creeping over the parts of her skin not covered by her fatigues.

Wylan, Matthias and Jesper soon followed her. "They say you were the one to blow it," Wylan said. "Was it really you? Both Death Stars?"

"Both Death Stars," Inej confirmed, and hugged them.

"Now, come on!" Jesper cut in. "There's a party going on!"

The party that was thrown on the surface didn't seem particularly organised, but what it lacked in substance it made up for in enthusiasm. More and more Rebels got permission to join the shuttles coming down to the surface to celebrate; before long Inej lost her friends in a blur of faces and congratulations, whirling dances and booming music. Where, exactly, the Pathfinders had acquired a piece of tech to play music on, Inej didn't know, but she was a little disturbed by the people who used sticks to hit stormtrooper helmets like they were drums.

After a while, she managed to detach herself from the chaos to find Matthias sitting off to the side, acting. . . well, not uncharacteristically morose, but more morose than she would've expected him to be. So Inej did what any decent person would do: she said down beside him.

"What's wrong?"

Matthias shook his head. "I don't know. War. Glory. The whole deal." He pressed his lips together. "Our propaganda stunt played on reinforced toxic Mandalorian ideals of violence," his voice broke a little as he said _'toxic'_ , "and a young Mandalorian killed himself today because of it."

Inej had heard the story of Mikhail from one of Tamar's Pathfinders, so she didn't ask him to explain. She just sat there quietly, letting Matthias vent.

"Why should it be necessary for someone to die horribly and painfully for a cause they believe in?"

"Isn't that what you decided to do when you joined the Rebellion?" Inej asked.

" _No_." The word was vehement. "It's- it's not the same thing." He took a deep breath. "Any of the people on this moon would die for the Rebellion. I know that. It's not- It's not a bad thing, per se, caring about a cause that much, being selfless enough to put others before yourself - though I suppose there's a whole other argument about self-destructive heroism to be had there as well.

"No, what I mean is. . . He-" Matthias took a breath. "Mikhail wasn't sorry that he was dying for a Rebellion he'd never become a member of, which would never remember his name. He took _pride_ in it. Pride that he was about to die, and die with glory. That culture - that _Mandalorian attitude_ towards violence and destruction - is toxic. It will only lead to more war, the way it has for generations."

"I heard that the planet of Mandalore's seen so much war that the grass won't grow back on the meadows." Inej herself couldn't fathom the mere thought of it.

"It's true." Matthias swallowed. "My people have suffered enough because of the wars they start. Why can't it just _end_?"

"Wasn't there a splinter group on Mandalore dedicated to ending that?" Inej frowned. "A government that controlled Mandalore during the Clone Wars, and preached the idea of peace and prosperity. It collapsed when their leader, the Duchess of Mandalore, was assassinated."

Matthias nodded. "The New Mandalorians," he said. "Brum hated them more than anything - more than the Rebels, even. At least _they_ didn't try to call themselves Mandalorian. I think they're still around, somewhere."

Inej shrugged. "Then why don't you join them?"

"I. . ." He froze. "I could do that?"

She shrugged again. "The Emperor's dead. The end of the Empire is nigh. You can do whatever you want."

Matthias's gaze snapped to hers. "What do you think Nina will do?" he asked. "Wylan?"

Her breath faltered at the intensity of the question. "I don't know. We'll still need soldiers. Rebels. I hope they'll continue with that, but. . . It's their choice." She smiled. "Although, if you _do_ choose to join the New Mandalorians, I'm sure Nina would be able to find plenty of reasons to visit you. 'Building relations with the previous enemies of the Jedi', and all that."

Matthias flushed, and didn't comment. Instead he said: "I was talking to Wylan earlier. He wants to keep working with you until all the factions of the Empire are fully routed, and then. . . Who knows? He implied he might like to go travelling."

"Jesper will probably join him," said a new voice. Kaz stepped up and sat on the other side of her. "But what about you, Inej? What are you going to do?"

"What are _you_ going to do?" she challenged, but it wasn't in the same way she would have challenged him before. It was playful now, a genuine curiosity. "You leaving us again?"

He didn't quite smile back at her, but his mouth twitched like he wanted to. "Yes, actually," he admitted. Her heart sank for a moment before he continued, "I'm going to investigate the criminal underworld for your Rebellion. I'll act as a bounty hunter of sorts, tracking down Imperial war criminals and such."

She grinned at him. "Kaz Brekker, a bounty hunter? Oh how the tables have turned." He actually did smile at that: it was small and fleeting, but it was there. "You'll be terrifying."

"I will," he said, almost proudly. "And what about you?"

She glanced at Matthias, then back at Kaz. "I guess. . ." Her eyes fell on some of the pilots of Green Squadron, their orange flight suits garish in the evening light. "I'll keep flying with Green Squadron. Or at least, some of the pilots from it," she added. "I want to form a new squadron, meant for covert missions. I find the data and the missions we need, then the whole squadron carries it out."

"What're you gonna call it?" Matthias asked.

"'Wraith Squadron' has a nice ring to it," Kaz mused.

Inej laughed. "You're right. What's more terrifying than one Wraith in the galaxy? Over a dozen of them."

"Glad you find it such a good idea," Kaz said, "because I have something for you."

She blinked at him. "Okay. . ." She turned to Matthias and said, "I saw Nina by the food table, if you wanted to go look for her," then, ignoring the way his cheeks flushed pink, allowed Kaz to take her hand and pull her away. "What is it?"

They were a little way beyond the outskirts of the party when he stopped and pulled out a holo, its blue light bright against the dimness of the trees. "If you're going to start your own squadron," he said, "you'll need a ship, won't you?"

Her eyes went wide as she studied the ship in the hollow. It was white and hexagonal, simple but elegant, nice enough to be a well-kept freighter but not nice enough to draw attention. The cockpit was a bubble attached to the front, and it had three turrets: one of the back, one on the top, one on the bottom.

"A VCX-100 light freighter," she breathed. " _Three_ turrets?"

"Each one with a laser cannon, and two with proton torpedo launchers."

She just look at him, mouth agape.

He continued, "It also has engines which are baffled, with energy dampeners and static jammers which make it hard to detect, plus another eighty seven highly illegal upgrades which I'll let you find on your own. All in all-"

"-it's a perfect stealth ship."

"Not quite perfect, but I'm sure you'll find way to modify it yourself until it is."

Inej shook her head. "Kaz, I can't accept this."

"Forget that," he dismissed. "I bought it off a Twi'lek woman from the Free Ryloth movement who was selling it cheap to any Rebels. I didn't pay much for it, and she was thrilled at the idea it would be used by the Wraith herself. It used to be called the _Ghost_ , but I'm think you can rechristen it to the _Wraith_."

He handed her the holo and she clutched it tightly.

"Also," he said. "I've made contact with two citizens of the new Alderaanian flotilla that sprung up. They say their family name is Ghafa - they saw the brief footage of you from Pekka's palace, and they recognised you. They want to talk to you."

If her heart had skipped a beat when he gave her the ship, it stopped altogether at this. "W-what?"

"Your parents are alive, Inej," he repeated gently. "They're looking for you. They miss you."

She-

She couldn't breathe.

_Mama. Papa._

They were _alive_.

For a moment, all she could do was laugh giddily. Then she found her voice. "Thank you, Kaz," she said. " _Thank you_. You-" She shook her head. "You can be so wonderful sometimes."

His faint smile faltered at the compliment. "Just take the damn ship, Inej." There was joking in his tone, but seriousness as well. "Take it, and change the galaxy with it."

* * *

Nikolai had spent as much time as he could on his flagship Home One before one of his subordinates persuaded him to catch a shuttle down to the moon and join the celebration. He conceded, and travelled to the moon, but he didn't join the celebration. That was for the everyday soldiers, who went out on missions and risked their lives, like Ghafa and Zenik and Van Eck and Helvar. It wasn't for ex-senators and Rebel leaders.

Instead, he went to the only _lambda_ shuttle still on the moon - the one Zenik had come in. It wasn't locked or secured in any way; he found himself able to walk right up the ramp and into the cockpit to see the lights of Endor laid out before him through the viewport.

To see Alina's body, still lying in the seat he'd seen her die in.

_And you're a Sith Lord._

_Not anymore._

He was glad his friend had died in peace, even if his other friends - the ones who actually _deserved_ peaceful deaths - didn't. He would miss Tolya and Tamar, and Alina no less, but he'd been missing Alina since Koroleva had been born. That emotion wasn't new to him.

The knowledge that the twins were gone, on the other hand, was still fresh and raw.

He hefted Alina's body into his arms and carried her out of the shuttle, into the night air. Alina had spent her childhood outside, and even after that she had never liked being inside for too long; it was wrong to leave her corpse there, when the fresh air was so close by.

When the stars were just within reach.

It took him the better part of an hour to get the remainder of her armour off of her, and once he did he buried it deep, the dirt embedding itself under his fingernails. He didn't complain of the sweat on his back or the aches in his joints - this was a service to his friend. It was the least he could do.

Finally, he gathered dry wood and set up a pyre. He laid her body atop it. It was an easy task to find two pieces of flint and strike them against each other, sending sparks flying until a scrap of cloth he'd torn off his white cloak caught aflame, and the wood itself burned with it.

He watched as her clothes, then her body caught fire, and the unpleasant smell of charred flesh filled his nostrils. Smoke curled towards the sky, the yellow flames bright against the pink and purple supernovae spread out in the heavens above them.

Nikolai didn't know how Tamar had died. Didn't want to know. He was sure he'd find out later, when Zenik reported everything that had happened, but right now he was glad that he didn't know whether or not it had been Alina who killed her. He was glad that in this final moment, that last crime couldn't be attributed to her.

"I'm sorry, Alina," he said to the pyre. "And I hope that wherever you are now, you're happy."

Pressure was building at the back of his eyes, tears pressing into his tear ducts. But his face remained dry as he took a deep breath, as the flames consumed the last of her body, as he turned towards the sounds of the party going on not too far away.

He could hear Zenik's excited chatter, Helvar's booming voice, Ghafa's calming hum. There was something missing without the twins, but it was a happy noise all the same, of the next generation carving out their future in a war-torn galaxy.

"We'll all be dead soon," he murmured, to himself, to Alina, to Tamar and Tolya, to all the Jedi who'd died before their time. "Our generation messed everything up, and soon there'll be none of us left because of it."

The laughter kept rising and falling. He watched the silhouettes of the young group of Rebels who'd defeated both the Death Stars dance through the colourful lights, as delicate and ethereal as fairies, and when he turned back to the fire, he imagined he saw another two silhouettes. Zoya's face, blue and glowing, winked at him for an instant before vanishing, but it was the image of Alina that lingered for longer - the image of her as he'd known her just before the Clone Wars had started, Jedi robes drifting around her, dark hair braided back in a no-nonsense plait, shy smile fixed on her face.

Then she vanished too, and he imagined the wind was her whispered goodbye.

He took a sharp breath. "I'll tell them what happened," he promised. "That Fahey's mother helped trigger the Clone Wars, that I was in part to blame for it as well. I'll tell them about Ilse's warmongering ways, the corruption in the Republic, the opportunistic Darkling who made to take advantage of it all."

The music kept playing. It made his heart ache, thinking of other times - of _better_ times.

He shook his head. "But not today."

He glanced behind him again, at the silhouettes and the lights and the magic of hope. At that time, there was no way he could know what was to come.

He couldn't know that Brekker and Ghafa _would_ serve with the New Republic for a further eighteen months, routing ex-Imperial dissidents, before they both went to live in a colony set up by the surviving Alderaanians.

He couldn't know that Helvar _would_ become the Prime Minister of Mandalore on behalf of the New Mandalorians, taking major steps away from the toxic warrior culture as well as finding ways to be with Zenik.

He couldn't know that Fahey _would_ go travelling around the galaxy with Van Eck, researching major events and places in the history of the Force and eventually setting up a charity for children whose parents couldn't or wouldn't be there for them, whether they were Force-sensitive or otherwise.

And he couldn't know that Zenik _would_ set up a new Force sect in contingency with the New Republic - _and_ the New Mandalorians - neither Jedi nor Sith, which focused on finding a healthy balance between both the light and the dark in the galaxy and in yourself.

He couldn't _know_ any of this, but he felt it, somehow.

So he smiled in the darkness. "They'll still be here, in the years to come," he predicted. We'll all be dead," he took in a breath of fresh air, "but they will remain. And they will make the future bright."

As bright as the surface of Endor's planet, arching over half the sky. As bright as the stars seen beyond it. 

As bright as the sun, staining the sky pink and gold as it climbed.

The long night had ended. Dawn had come, and the sun was rising on the Republic once again.


End file.
